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muchamusedaboutnothing · 2 years

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Heart of a Hunter Act VII - Ch. 3

Characters: Dean x doctor!Reader, Sam Winchester This story is Act 7 of a saga. New to the story? Get caught up on the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

All your favorite Winchesters are alive, in spite of the curse that nearly took them from you. After coming so close to losing the only family you have left in this world, you’re taking matters into your own hands. There’s a witch to hunt.

Series Warnings:

Character injuries/sickness - Take note that no one is excluded from this.

Canon-typical violence and language.

Lots of whump.

Lots of caring for hurt characters.

Smut (18 Only. NSFW. You were warned.)

Angst.

Fluff.

Medical talk. Is that even a warning

Image Credit: bing image search, google image search , @whoeveryoulovethemost , @sammysnaughtygirl , Supernatural Wiki, https://dizzojay.livejournal.com/

Wordcount: 2956

Chapter 3

After dinner on the second day of Addie’s visit to the bunker, she brought a carry-on suitcase on wheels into the mess hall where you were just finishing giving Jonah a bottle.

“Have we run you off so soon?” Dean teased, eyeing the luggage as you brought Jonah up to your shoulder to gently pat his back.

“Not hardly,” Addie said with a grin, wheeling the little blue carry-on right up to Dean’s feet where he sat next across from you.

Dean’s eyebrows went up in confusion that was only exacerbated by the fact that Sam walked in with a little duffel bag in hand and set it down on the table between you both, looking at you expectantly.

“What’s going on, guys?” you asked with a curious smile.

“Mom and Dad and I may have gone a little overboard with the baby gifts,” Addie admitted with a shrug. You and Dean shared a look while Sam grinned, shaking his head. “Well, come on. Don’t you want to open them?” Addie mused.

“Hell yes,” Dean said, diving right in and sliding the zipper on the duffel bag.

Addie winked at you and you watched in amusement as your husband produced an assortment of baby supplies from the little duffel.

There were also several bibs, a couple of packages of bottles, little bundles of baby washcloths, and at least ten (you lost count) baby outfits all very befitting of a little Winchester in an assortment of plaid or buffalo checked fabrics.

Addie grinned as you went through the gifts. "I told you Mom and Dad and I may have gone a little crazy."

"Hey, this stuff is awesome," Dean said to her with a huge smile.

"Yeah," you agreed. "It's so sweet of you all to-"

"Oh, that's not all," she said, sliding the rolling carry-on a few inches closer and bumping Dean's knee gently. "The best is in there."

Dean shrugged and turned the carry-on on its side at his feet, leaning over to unzip it.

A baby quilt was neatly folded inside and Dean gently lifted it out, shaking it open. It was light gray flannel fabric and had the front view of a gorgeous black Impala design sewn on that occupied more than half of the space in the center. The words Dream Big, Winchester were at the bottom right corner.

You were utterly speechless as you gazed at the quilt in Dean's hands.

Dean was having the same problem, muttering, "Addie, I - I … this is … "

She gave a satisfied smile at the disbelief on both your faces.

"It's beautiful," you managed. "God, how did you-"

"Oh, I don't sew," she was quick to add. "I do know a woman who is awesome at it though. Called her up and we had it back a few weeks later. Not all of us are handy enough to make cool homemade gifts," she said with a little smile in Sam's direction.

"I don't even know what to say," you added. "It's amazing. Thank you."

She was halfway through a "You're so welcome," when Dean cut her off by getting to his feet and throwing an arm around her shoulders to pull her in for a hug.

"Now my Baby can watch over the baby even when we're not on the road," he said proudly.

"I'm glad you like it," Addie said, seeming a little surprised at Dean's giant, heart-felt bear hug as she patted his back, returning the gesture.

Dean was beaming with delight when he released her. He turned to face you and Jonah, holding the blanket up to take another look at it. "See that, kiddo? You have your own car to sleep with."

"Thank you," you said again to Addie as Sam stepped up behind her and rested a hand casually on her hip.

"It was nothing," she said with a smile and a wave of her hand.

But it wasn't nothing. The Anderson's had become like family. The video call you all made to also thank Cheryl and Jim afterward turned into an hour-long chat from the bunker's library.

You thanked them profusely for the baby gifts, and they admitted they'd had so much fun shopping for Jonah that no one should be surprised to see the occasional care package arrive in the future, as was sure to happen.

Jim and Cheryl were anxious to hear that Jonah was still doing fine, despite all he'd been through. And also that Sam and Dean were really okay after their heroic measures to break the witch's curse on Jonah.

Sam happily took it upon himself to recap the story about Dean's first time changing Jonah's diaper in the hospital, and Dean didn't deny any of the antics, laughing instead as his brother gave him a hard time.

Jim and Cheryl fussed over Jonah, doting on him through the screen. After a wonderful exchange of stories, you all agreed to plan a trip down to Florida for a visit once the matter of the witch was resolved.

Cheryl had some wonderful words of advice to you and Dean about making time for each other to just be a couple despite being new parents. Jim added his two cents about remembering to keep doing the things that are important to you, and how keeping that balance is a great example to kids.

When the video call ended, Addie was smiling from ear to ear as Jonah gazed up at her through big eyes from where he lay in her lap. Sam reached over to squeeze her shoulder lightly, watching adoringly as Addie played with the baby.

"I miss them," you said of Cheryl and Jim.

"Me too," Dean agreed. "But the sooner we take this witch out, the sooner we can plan a little road trip to visit."

"Speaking of," Sam added. "We should probably check in and see if our witch is on the move yet."

But of course, she wasn't. According to the daily ritual, the witch was still holed up in France, much to everyone's deep disappointment.

Sam and Addie offered to clean up the ritual so you and Dean could bathe Jonah and get him ready for bed.

Despite the lack of news from the ritual, Dean seemed to be in better spirits tonight. You suspected the video chat with Cheryl and Jim played a significant role in his demeanor as the two of you knelt along the side of the bathtub, gently washing Jonah as Dean sang 'Splish Splash', and playfully styled Jonah's hair in a sudsy mohawk.

“That’s my boy,” Dean said proudly with a chuckle as he admired Jonah’s new do. “Dude, the ladies don’t stand a chance.”

You grinned and shook your head as you watched Dean use his fingers to lightly wipe the bubbles from the baby’s hair. Seeing the two of them that way together made your heart happy, and warm, and just so goddamn proud. You felt like a sponge, just trying to take it all in and enjoy every second.

When Dean had all of the bubbles washed out, you grabbed the soft baby towel with the little hood built-in and positioned it in your arms, saying, “Ready when you are, Winchester.”

Dean pulled the drain and took great care as he gently lifted Jonah out of the water and laid him in your arms, helping to wrap the towel around him to keep him warm.

“There we go,” Dean said as you snuggled Jonah close to you and pressed a soft kiss to his slippery wet cheek. Dean opened the door and followed you to the nursery, turning on the lamp and watching adoringly as you gently placed Jonah on the changing table pad.

You carefully dried Jonah with the towel, speaking sweetly to him as you gave him a little baby lotion massage.

Dean was standing at the ready with a diaper and a pair of clean jammies. You were just doing up the last of the little snaps on the jammies when Sam and Addie joined you in the nursery.

"Story time," Sam announced with a grin as Dean lifted Jonah off of the changing table.

You leaned in and kissed your son on the forehead, saying, "Love you, JoJo. Sleep well."

Dean followed that by blowing a soft raspberry on Jonah's cheek. "Night, kiddo. Be good for Saddie."

Sam rolled his eyes as he scooped Jonah up into his arms, and you didn't miss the little wink your husband gave Addie as the two of you slipped past them and into the hall. You heard Addie's soft laugh as you closed the door and Dean smirked at you, making you giggle.

Once Jonah was down for the night, you and Addie found yourselves sitting in the library and catching up. The guys must have sensed you and Addie needed some time for girl talk, because Dean brought in a bottle of his top-shelf whiskey and two glasses, making it evident he didn’t plan on staying.

“Just dropping this off,” he said as he set the glasses and bottle down on the table between you. “Don’t mind me.”

“You’re good to me,” you told him.

“Damn straight,” he said, lips curling into a smirk.

You were kissing Dean goodnight when Sam casually walked in and saw the whiskey and his brother obviously not settling down to join you, and made his way over to Addie saying, "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Sounds good," she told him as he bent to give her a quick kiss.

Sam squeezed your shoulder affectionately as he passed by, and then you and Addie were alone.

You both giggled as you gripped the bottle of whiskey and poured a finger for each of you.

"How are things between you and Sam?" you asked. "I know he's happy to have you here. And you definitely surprised him."

"It's nice for both of us to be in the same place at the same time," she admitted. "Almost never happens. And things between us are … well … "

"I don't mean to pry," you cut in, instantly regretting the question. "I probably shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business."

"No, it's not that," Addie said quickly. "Actually, it would be great to talk with you. I mean, you know him better than I do. You've been the only constant woman in his life for years." She chewed her lip for a second, eyes fixed on something across the room. "How do I get him to - I don't know - open up?"

"Decoding a Winchester," you said with a slow smile.

"Yeah, well, you are the expert." Addie sighed. “It’s like he’s got part of himself walled off, you know? No matter how close we get, I can still tell he’s holding back. I can’t decide if he thinks he’s protecting me, or if he’s just trying to protect himself.”

“Knowing Sam, it's probably a little bit of both,” you mused.

Addie nodded. “I called him out on it once. I mean, I sort of made a joke about it, but-”

“What did you say?”

Addie gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Oh, I don’t know, something along the lines of him trying to partition part of his heart off like it's a hard drive.”

Her observation had you nearly choking on your drink.

Addie acknowledged your reaction by grinning and raising her eyebrows at you. “I asked if he was expecting me to figure out how to reformat it or something.” She shrugged, smiling. “Well, it was the best analogy I could think of to get my point across. Pretty sure it worked.”

You grinned and stared at her. “What did Sam say to that?”

“He laughed - that adorable, infectious bark of a laugh that always seems to surprise even him. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t even try." Addie tilted her cup slightly in emphasis. "He knows I’m onto him.”

You took a sip of your drink, mulling over what she'd said. “If you could wave a magic wand and have whatever you want, what do you imagine between the two of you?”

Addie raised an eyebrow. “You got a magic wand in the bunker supply room you didn’t tell me about? Girl, if you’re holding out on me-”

You laughed out loud. “Come on, now. Anything you want.... What would it be?”

Addie sighed, considering your question thoughtfully for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t even know. Some days I feel like I want more, and then other days I realize I can barely manage to keep my own shit together enough to pull off this casual, long-distance thing we have going on. Not sure I'm in the right place to be committing to anyone.”

You shrugged. "That's fair. But no one has it all together. No one. And as far as Sam goes, he has a hard time believing he's deserving. So many things just come natural to him, he gets a little freaked out when something doesn't. A little encouragement can go a long way."

Addie smiled as she listened to you talk about Sam.

You could have gone on all night long about Sam Winchester and why he deserved the world, but Addie already felt the same way. So, instead you tried to offer some insight into the man you loved like a brother, and all the ways he fell short when it came to loving himself.

"Sam is one of the most kind, patient, and generous men I've ever known," you said honestly. "He's just not good at directing those qualities back at himself."

Addie chewed her bottom lip in thought. “Was it like this with Dean?” she asked after a moment. “I mean, you two are like a power couple.” You chuckled a little before taking another drink. “I mean it. You are,” she insisted. “How in the hell did you crack open that tough exterior to get to the soft and gooey center?”

“You are really killing it with the analogies,” you said, tipping your drink toward her for her to clink with her own as she laughed at you. “Dean and I? Well, he actually did the cracking.”

Addie’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I was the one holding back,” you admitted, thinking back on when you’d first come to live in the bunker. “There was this undeniable pull between me and Dean from the beginning, but I was still trying to find my way after leaving my career. And Dean? Well, he just opened up to me in ways no one else has ever done."

"How so?" Addie was watching you like she was hanging on the edge of her proverbial seat.

"Well, first of all, he admitted it was scary, and said it was okay if neither of us knew what the hell we were doing, we could still figure it out together. And he left his heart wide open so I could sort myself out and find strength in his example. And when I met him halfway we were that much stronger for it.”

Addie scoffed, smiling. “Just that simple, huh?”

"It took time," you added. "And it wouldn't have been fair to Dean or myself to do anything different until I knew what I actually wanted."

"God, it's just so complicated," Addie exclaimed. "It's probably not fair to expect Sam to figure out what I want when I don't even know what the hell that is."

You grinned and said, “And, I'm sure you've noticed, Sam and Dean may be brothers but they are polar opposites in so many ways…. But Sam really cares about you,” you added. “Maybe so much it scares him. And when it comes to being scared in this family, we're a lot better at dealing with the fear that comes with things that go bump in the night.”

Addie took a sip of her drink and considered you a moment. "God, look at me going on about potential relationship problems when there are actual problems to think about."

"Your feelings are a big deal," you said gently. "So are Sam's. Whatever you're both dealing with - going through it together - that's real."

"You get your doctorate in psychology, too?" Addie joked. "Because I should probably be paying you for a therapy session right now."

You laughed hard enough to snort. "I already told you no one has it all together. Certainly not me. I just fake it well most days."

"Well, in that case, I'm going to follow you around and take notes."

You grinned, rolling your eyes at her.

“You should hit the sack,” she said to you, glancing at the time. “That cute baby of yours is going to want a bottle here at some point.”

"You're not wrong," you admitted, getting to your feet. "You should get some sleep yourself. Or not, depending on whether Sam is still up."

Addie grinned at your remark and you walked down the hall together. You didn’t miss the way Addie quietly slipped into Sam’s room before you peeked in on Jonah to find him snoozing soundly.

You went into your own room then, sliding out of your jeans in the dark and getting under the covers to snuggle up to Dean in your t-shirt and underwear.

Dean's voice was deep and rumbly when he said, "Mmm…. Sugar?"

You obliged his request by pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His hand fell into place at the dip of your waist, and you promptly fell asleep to the gentle rocking motion of his deep breathing.

Act VII Masterlist.

You can find the Masterlist for the Heart of a Hunter Saga here.

Please consider supporting my writing by buying me a coffee. In my case, it’s Dr. Pepper, but a little caffeine goes a long way when it comes to writing and posting this labor of love.

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*HOAH Text divider by the brilliant Talesmaniac89

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#Heart of a Hunter #dean x doctor!reader #dean x reader #spn reader insert #spn series

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kitlaurie · 4 years

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I may be writing other things, but I am constantly thinking about the Christmas Ghosts au.

As proof, here's some very messy moodboards for the trio.

#klaus christmas ghosts au #klaus #klaus 2019 #klaus netflix #jesper johansen #klaus lydia #lydia x klaus x jesper #lydia x klaus #klausper #merry husbands #santa & mrs claus & the eternal postman #please be kind I don't make moodboards #these are kind of intentionally janky #yes i just pulled stuff off google image search #will this make sense to anyone but me?#probably not #just wish i had a better close up of lydia

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reidingmelodies · 3 years

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Finders Keepers

A/N: It’s been ages since I’ve written anything, so I figured it was about time I got back into it! Hope you enjoy, any feedback is appreciated :) Warnings: None Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7K

“What’s wrong with you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan questioned as Spencer rushed into the BAU Tuesday morning, fingers threading through his curls and a look of pure agitation gracing his features. As if he didn’t hear the question directed towards him, Spencer continued to storm through the room, nearly stumbling into Morgan in his quest to reach his desk.

Pupils dilating, Morgan looked towards JJ who had taken stock of the scene from her chair, brows already furrowed and legs moving to stand and head towards her fellow colleague.

Taking the lead, JJ swiftly headed to Spencer’s side, moving to place a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it and placing both hands on the edge of his desk instead, Mama Bear instincts dialed all the way up. “Everything okay, Spence? You seem annoyed.”

Morgan scoffed before thinking better of it, “I’d say he’s a bit more than annoyed, JJ”. No sooner than the words had left his mouth he was given a swift elbow in his side from JJ and an eye roll from Spencer and all that was left for Morgan to do was raise his hands in defeat.

Sighing, Spencer turned back to his desk before mumbling a response back to them, “I’m fine, guys. I think I lost my copy of War and Peace on the Metro this morning. It was in my bag when I left my place, it must have fallen out when I was trying to grab my umbrella. I thought maybe I just forgot and left it here, but apparently not”.

“You and I both know you don’t forget anything, Pretty Boy,” Morgan chimed in, visibly less tense now that he knew there wasn’t any immediate danger.

“Actually Morgan that’s not entirely true. I have an eidetic memory which means-”

“There’s the Reid we all know and love,” JJ chuckled, heading back to her desk to get ready for the day ahead of them. Morgan followed, leaving the bullpen in search of Garcia and Spencer sighed, trying to move past the fact that one of his favorite books was no longer in his possession. Logically, he knew he could buy a replacement copy after work, but deep down he knew it wasn’t the same.

The words dancing across the page would be the same ones that brought him entertainment and the comfort found in familiarity throughout his life, but the book within his hands wouldn’t hold the same nostalgic memories. He wouldn’t look down at the tattered cover and reminisce on his first jet ride with the BAU, thinking back on how he brushed his fingers against the book’s familiar spine while trying to calm his stomach filled with nervous jitters at the prospect of working with unfamiliar people. He wouldn’t look at the dog-eared pages and remember how the words on those exact pages brought him comfort on nights he would escape to his bedroom and try to leave memories of aggressive classmates and whispering peers behind.

Any thought of potentially buying a new copy of the book after the workday was dispelled though as Garcia called everyone into the conference room to discuss a pending case in Phoenix, no sooner followed by a “wheels up in thirty” announcement from Hotch. Grabbing his go-bag and leaving the bullpen, Spencer filled his head with thoughts of the case, half of his brain racing ahead to connect victimology and significant locations while the other half was stuck repeating a never-ending mantra of “it’s just a book” in the back of his mind.

***

As Spencer was boarding a jet to head 468 miles north, Y/N was playing with a loose thread on her sweater, thinking about the long day of work ahead of her. Breaking her trance, she looked up and instead glanced up at the now empty row of seats in front of her. Her brows furrowed as she saw a book stuck in the crack between the far left seat cushion and the back of the chair, and before she knew it her curiosity overtook her. Y/N found herself standing from the seat, travel mug and bag in tow, before reaching for the dictionary-like book that was calling to her. The title War and Peace glared back at her, and a quick turn of the cover revealed faded words written in blue ink proclaiming that the book was the “Property of Spencer Reid”. With the announcement of her stop blaring over the loudspeaker and the weight of someone else’s book in their hand, Y/N made a split second decision to stuff the book into her bag, leaving the Metro with not only thoughts of the upcoming workday but visions of whom the mysterious Spencer Reid could be.

The workday passed by slowly, each passing second filled with the overwhelming desire to search for Spencer Reid on Google. By the time Y/N was on the Metro ride home, any and all motivation to search for the book’s rightful owner went out the door as her irritation grew with the rising heat of the increasingly packed subway car. Needing a distraction, her hand reached into her bag, initially moving for her cell phone but making a last second switch as her hand brushed the spine of the book. May as well spend my time doing something productive, she thought as she gently pulled the book out of it’s temporary home. With a final sigh, she turned to the first page and began to read.

As Y/N was tearing through the pages of War and Peace at an alarmingly quicker rate than she anticipated that night, Spencer was filling out a WMTA lost and found form in the hopes that someone had the decency to return his book. Knowing his luck, he assumed it was long gone and in the trash somewhere, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one last ditch effort at finding it. Groaning, Spencer called it a night and went to bed, silently vowing to find his book the second he stepped foot off the BAU jet again.

***

Six days later the BAU team landed in Quantico, making plans to head to a bar for a drink before a well deserved day off. As designated drivers were assigned and phone calls home were made Spencer gathered his things, making a beeline to the door in the hopes of reaching the WMTA’s designated lost and found area before it closed for the night. He was a foot away from the door before a soft hand grasped his wrist, immediately stopping him in his tracks.

“Skipping out on the bar tonight, Reid?” Emily questioned, head tilted as she noticed how frazzled her friend was.

“I’m just gonna go home and watch a bit of Dr.Who” Spencer began, desperately trying to think of something that would let him out the door without further questions. “Speaking of Dr. Who, did you know that it was originally created to be an educational show for kids? It’s actually really interesting-”

“Say no more, Dr. Reid,” Emily laughed, letting go of his wrist and heading back towards the others, “enjoy your night”. Spencer tightly smiled, leaving the bullpen and making his way to downtown DC in search of his book. An hour later and he wasn’t any closer to finding his book, ultimately giving up and heading to the bookstore to buy himself another copy.

It was at that same time JJ and Derek found themselves hysterically laughing at a corner booth in the bar, thinking about how Spencer probably missed out on meeting the love of his life that night- a woman sitting in the booth directly across from them, War and Peace open on the table in front of her and a pen and highlighter busy at work marking up post its that were being meticulously placed on the book’s pages.

***

A month and a half went by and Spencer had officially given up hope on finding his lost book. In the six weeks since he had last seen it he refrained from reading his new copy, not willing to give up the small amount of hope he had that he would be reunited with his original book. That evening though, as the Metro had yet another delay and the subway car continued to get hotter and hotter, he figured there was no better time than the present and pulled out his new copy of War and Peace. A few pages in, a sudden jolt of the car made him glance up and almost immediately he locked eyes with the woman across from him. In the span of ten seconds, his thoughts ranged from she’s beautiful to hold on- she’s holding my book and before his legs fully alerted his brain what was happening he found himself on his feet and sitting in the empty seat directly next to her.

As Spencer’s brain began to register just how bad of an idea it was to sit next to a stranger as abruptly as he just did, the woman next to him gripped her bag slightly tighter, tilting her head to the side as she peaked a look at the man next to her.

Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Spencer interrupted her, desperately trying to save himself from any embarrassment her words could bring.

“That’s my book,” he bluntly stated, mentally hitting himself as he watched her adorably confused features morph into a look of defense.

“No.. that’s your book,” she pointed down to his lap, where his new copy of War and Peace was resting between his palms.

“No it’s not- well, it is but it isn’t really?” Spencer tried to explain, his face growing more and more red with each word that left his mouth.

“So it’s your book, but not your book?” She questioned, lips curling up into a slight smile as she witnessed the sweet agitation of the man in front of her.

“Yes! I lost my book on the metro almost two months ago. This is just my replacement copy, and I don’t know how I know, but I’m positive the book in your hands right now is the one that I lost.” Spencer finished his spiel, watching as the woman’s eyes widened in realization and her mouth formed an “o” shape.

“You’re Spencer Reid?” she asked, and now it was his turn to play the part of the confused companion.

“I- yes? But, how do you know my name?” As soon as the question left his mouth the image of the title page of his book filled his head and all too soon he was practically yelling with joy in the poor woman’s face. “Wait, that is my book then! Does it say Property of Spencer Reid on the cover page?”

The woman laughed, and Spencer watched as any traces of tension left her body. “I’m so sorry! I found it on the Metro on my way to work, and I meant to look you up- not in a creepy way,” she continued, growing more flustered with each passing second. “I was gonna try and find you to return it but then I started reading it and I liked it more than I thought I would and I just,” She stooped, taking a breath and giving him the most adorable set of puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. “I’m just really sorry, I shouldn’t have held onto it as long as I did”. She finished, and held the book up, holding it out towards Spencer’s hands. “I think this belongs to you”.

“It’s not a problem at all, I promise,” Spencer reassured her with a warm smile on his face, “thanks for keeping it safe”. Something about her filled his stomach with joy, and as he looked at her he saw a similar smile mirrored back at him. It was at that moment he knew he would do anything to keep that look of happiness on her face, stranger or not. “You know what,” he continued, “you should keep it- finders keepers and all that”.

Y/N laughed in disbelief, immediately shaking her head and pushing the book closer to its rightful owner. “It’s bad enough I’ve had it this long,” she admitted. “It belongs with you”.

“At least take this one then?” Spencer’s brain continued to be a few steps ahead of him, and before he knew it he was taking the book in the stranger’s outstretched hands and placing his new copy in her grasp. “It looks like you still have a hundred pages or so left and I wouldn’t want to keep you from finishing it. Besides, I definitely don’t need two copies”.

The woman smiled and gave him an enthusiastic nod, and Spencer couldn’t help but think he just made the best decision of his life. The speaker above them announced the next stop, and with a sudden jump she left her seat, discarding the new book into her bag and turning towards Spencer on her way to the door. “Thanks, Spencer!” she exclaimed, “maybe I’ll see you around sometime”. Another smile was sent his way, and before he earned up the nerve to ask for her name she was gone, disappearing into a growing crowd of commuters desperate to get back to the comfort of their homes and begin the weekend ahead.

***

The following morning, Spencer found himself in his living room with a mug of coffee in his hand, completely lost in his thoughts. He was trying to calculate the chances of seeing the mystery woman again, considering it took six weeks after losing his book to see her for the first time at all.

He groaned, inwardly cursing himself for his lack of courage the day before and wishing he at least had a name to match to the face that wouldn’t leave his mind. As the coffee cooled, he found his gaze wandering to the coffee table where he had laid the book and his satchel the previous night. With a sigh, Spencer picked up the book only to notice a bright orange post-it sticking out of one of the pages.

“The strongest of all warriors are these two- time and patience” was written in loopy writing, highlighted in yellow with exactly twelve exclamation points in red ink under it. He was a man of science, but he couldn’t help but feel as though finding one of his favorite quotes from the novel staring up at him was a sign.

As he continued to skim the pages, he found note after note filled with quotes, reactions, and doodles and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the stranger who put them all there. It was a book that held countless memories for Spencer, but already he could tell that this was going to be his ultimate favorite.

Backtracking to the front page, Spencer saw his familiar scrawl had been slightly covered by a light blue post it note. “If this book gets lost a second time I don’t want to make the same mistake as the first guy… please call Y/N at-” Spencer laughed, immediately grabbing his phone to dial the number before he has time to talk himself out of it.

As the phone began to ring, he thought about how he couldn’t picture her name being anything else. It was as beautiful as she was, and he longed to properly meet the woman who managed to get his heart racing with just a few post-it notes.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end of his phone answered, and Spencer could immediately tell it was the same woman from the subway.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” he began, fingers nervously twiddling together. At her hum of acknowledgement he continues, “This is Spencer, the guy who’s book you had? I was just looking through the post-its you left behind and I love the perspective you have on the book. Plus, it was so nice of you to even hold onto it in the first place so I was wondering if you’d wanna get coffee, maybe? So I can say thank you for everything and talk about the book with you?”

The opposite end of the phone was silent and Spencer’s face grew red, his hands moving to his hair because how could he possibly think she wanted to meet him, she didn’t even know him and-

“I was hoping you’d find that post-it note,” she giggled, and with the sound all of Spencer’s worries completely washed away. “Absolutely”.

***

Link to join my taglist ♡

#Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #ash writes

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a-slut-for-smut · 2 years

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Considering how often Mikasa's abs are objectified in various media, I'm surprised there isn't more kinks involving them, stuff like Levi pulling his penis out to ejaculate onto her belly and watching her scrub off his semen or him licking alcohol off her navel. Since Mikasa is also heavier than she looks due to her strong muscles, Levi probably jerks off to fantasies of her crushing him.

damn anon...when you right, you right lmao

can i just say its been a while since i've gotten one of these next level horny asks and it was a welcomed surprise! so thank you for sharing your horny thoughts XD

every single word of your ask checks out canon & headcanon wise- (oh yes you better believe Levi is a total bottom slut for Mikasa lolol) evidence* below:

so in conclusion i detect no lies in your post and also- WHAT GIVES???? Im seriously trying to recall any fanfic that distinctly showcases an ab kink from Levi and i am failing miserably (granted i havent read much in the past year)- can anyone help me and anon here??? For uh, research purposes of course!

And if it doesn't exist already... @RM writers, can we step our kink game up pls???? please feed us we hungryyyyy XD

*sorry i had to google search images couldnt find the actual post links, credit due to the magnificent artists!!!

#thanks for the ask anon #rivamika #rivamika prompt

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asknarashikari · 2 years

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Sksksksk so apparently im this close to losing my mind. So i found this picture while scrolling twitter (and honestly, the original point of this ask is just to show you this picture too ehe)

And Im like "OMG so adorable!!!! Is this Ikki's actor????" Bc sue me okay im bad at remembering faces. So I went to google to search for the actors name and went to Ikki profile at Kamen Rider Wiki fandom website (which didnt mention the actors name at all lmao) BUT I scroll down and find this under 'Weakness'

Revice Driver: Prolonged usage of the Revice Driver has the apparent side effect of slowly erasing the user's existence away, as shown with Ikki's image disappearing from various photographs of him and his family. Currently, Vice is the only one to have taken note of this, while the reasons behind this side effect have yet to be explained, nor is it known if even the Driver's creator is aware of this.

And Im like "??????" This is literally the worst possible information I ever got. I had read before that the reason Ikki's pic disappear bc its Kagerou's doing or whatever like that so I accept it. But this?????? If this actually true Im literally going to cry. (Then its makes me curious who actually put all the Riders information in the Wiki. Like how do they know?)

Ok finish with that, so I havent seen ep 10 yet but Ive seen a few short clips on twitter. Im super happy Daiji finally become Live (and I cant wait for Sakura turn 😆). In the clips, it show that Daiji still wearing Kagerou's outfits as he transformed. I was amazed at Daiji's actor bc even in Kagerou's outfits, I know that "Yup that is Daiji 🥺". Because you know how sometimes "same person different personality" depended a lot on outfits change but Daiji's actor could pull this off. Thats just so cool 😆

Yeah, Kentaro Maeda is a cutie. I believe this pic is a screenshot from the recent NHK Kamen Rider event, which he was guest on alongside Masahiro Inoue and Kouhei Takeda.

As for the whole thing about the Driver and the erasing existence thing... I think that’s pure conjecture at this point. I did look at Ikki’s article myself, and it doesn’t cite any sources whatsoever for that entire bit. The strengths/weaknesses portion of the Rider pages are a bit subjective to begin with, but this in particular is really iffy.

Kamen Rider Wiki is a good resource for Rider stuff, but it’s still a fan-produced wiki, and the site lets anyone who signs up post and edit the info on it. There are probably mods who check on the info and approve of whatever changes are made, but still, take whatever they say with a grain of salt especially when citations are lacking. Confirmed information will usually have citations, such as episode numbers, social media posts from cast and crew, page numbers from official guidebooks, magazine scans, etc. There is a plethora of Rider resources out there if you know where to look.

Daiji’s first henshin and fight as Live was pretty amazing. And yes, Wataru Hyuga is quite impressive as an actor and proved his chops playing both Daiji and Kagerou.

That’s actually quite rare these days- a lot of actors in recent KR and Sentai series are actually fairly new to the industry (like, the KR/Sentai show is their debut into showbiz new), so their acting isn’t always the best, though they do noticeably improve as the show goes on. Wataru being that good this early on is a good sign, not only for his performance in the show, but for his career afterward. Kid’s gonna go places, hopefully.

I can’t wait for Sakura to henshin... though I’m also worried because of the source of her Driver is iffy... I hope she has the same strength of character and spirit of justice as her brothers otherwise we’re in a world of trouble.

#kamen rider revice #ask #miraisakuta

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novaiya · 3 years

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After Midnight - Arthur Morgan, Micah Bell.

Summary: Having spent the entire day traveling with Sean, Charles and Micah, Arthur wants nothing more than to let the sleep overtake him. His plans are sidetracked when Micah wouldn't leave his hotel room, and Arthur has to concentrate hard to ignore the man and his talk as he tries to fall asleep.

Words: 2,313

Warnings: none.

AO3 Link.

A/N: Long story short, I was able to trigger a “Companion” bug in which camp members can follow you on your adventures around the world. Google/Search it on YouTube to get a better sense for what I’m talking about. Anyway, I got Micah, Charles and Sean. I robbed and killed with them for a few hours before deciding to call it a night and went into a hotel. I got Arthur a bath, and as I’m laying in the bath, I see an icon moving toward Arthur’s room. When I left the bath and went into the hotel room, who did I see lol? Micah wouldn’t leave the room no matter what, so Arthur slept with Micah watching over him. Only when Arthur woke up the next morning did Micah finally leave the room. Weirdly enough, only Micah stayed with Arthur in the room, not Sean or Charles, though all of them were supposed to follow Arthur wherever he went.

~ ~ ~

It was nice to hang out with the guys for a change. More often than not, Arthur was alone; he would go hunting alone, collect bounties alone and help people around the country, alone. He enjoyed the solitude, of course, but something about riding with his fellow gang members down the dusty plain, all of them on their respective horses, had him treasure every minute of it. The conversations that they engaged in were a welcomed change to the usual silence that accompanied Arthur on his journeys, and the safety in numbers did not go by unnoticed. He could feel, as they passed by fellow gunslingers and bounty hunters on the road, eyes watching them warily. No one dared to look at them wrong, just the sight of all four of them, with iron on their hips and scars on their faces, made any attempt dissipate as fast as their horses did down the dirt path.

The night had fallen when they rolled into town. The shops were closing down, saloons becoming quieter and streets emptier as they rode through the Main Street. Arthur could feel a yawn make its way up his throat and did nothing to stop it. The day was long, with enough endeavors to last some people a lifetime, and he wanted nothing to do than to wash it away and go to sleep.

As they continued their way up the Main Street, Arthur saw a hotel; a small construction that by the looks of it barely stood together with the rotten boards and rusty nails, but with no other options, it would have to do.

Despite offering them, Sean and Charles declined spending the night in the crappy hotel and said they rather camp outside of town. Arthur didn’t have a chance to extend the same offer to Micah (not that he wanted to either) for the fact that he couldn’t find him (he went to the general store), so after bidding the guys goodnight, he went into the hotel, paid for a room and a bath and went to the latter first.

The first few minutes of being submerged in the water were always the best. Arthur could feel every ounce of stress leave his body along with the dirt. These few moments of peace always made him think of his dog, and despite the fact that the boy was long gone, he always smiled when he remembered him.

As okay as he was with bathing in rivers and lakes, he much preferred the steaming hot water of a hotel bath. He took the time to thoroughly wash himself, sliding the wet rag up and down his arms, legs and back. A satisfied groan would leave his lips now and then as he washed his hair, adding a slight pressure to massage his scalp.

After he finished cleaning himself, he took a deep breath and reclined against the rim of the bath. The smell of peppermint soap filled his senses and with the soap bubbles acting as a blanket, he felt himself drifting off to the dream world. A commotion outside made him let out an exhausted sight and open his eyes. He furrowed his brows as he heard someone enter the room next door, his room.

Perhaps it was Sean or Charles taking him up on his offer, deciding against bunking with coyotes and skunks.

He heaved a deep groan as he exited the bath. After drying himself off and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, he went to his room.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Arthur said as soon as he entered the room.

Micah’s back was turned to Arthur as he stood by the window of the room, looking outside. The town was quiet and all its citizens asleep. Micah enjoyed the nighttime, the quietness and calmness it provided. Like all the nighttime creatures, Micah felt the most comfortable when the sun was set and the moon loomed over.

“Well,” Micah said as he turned around, holding a cigarette between his fingers, “As you forgot to invite me, I decided to take matters into my own hands and welcome myself in.”

“Get out of here,” Arthur said as he moved across the room to a nightstand by the bed, removing his satchel and placing it there. He made a point of ignoring the man by the window as he took off his gun belt and placed it next to his satchel.

Micah didn’t move from his spot by the window, though he wasn’t looking through it anymore. As he held the cigarette between his fingers, puffing on it from time to time, he watched Arthur remove his belt, his jackets and his boots, all while his back was to him.

As Arthur turned around, ready to start pulling down his pants, he saw that Micah was still there, eyeing him in such a way that Arthur all of a sudden felt flustered.

“You still here?” he said.

Micah motioned with his hands and shrugged his shoulders without saying anything, implying that Yes, as you can see, I’m still standing here.

Micah moved from his position near the window to lean against a dresser in the center of the room.

Arthur wondered why he hadn't pushed Micah out of the room yet, and why he was now pulling his pants down, stripping down to just his Union suit in front of the man he’s known all 5 months. Not that the length of time they’ve known each other would have an effect on whether he would strip in front of him or not, but still. Perhaps he was too tired to pick a fight.

When down to his sleepwear, Arthur sat at the edge of the bed. The sleep had long passed him, and he was sharply aware that Micah wasn’t moving from his place by the dresser.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Arthur said.

“Do you want me to stand somewhere else?” Micah replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes before saying, “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Micah placed the cigarette back between his lips and inhaled the smoke. He kept his eyes on Arthur as he let the smoke escape in a cloud in front of him. After wetting his lips with his tongue, Micah replied as a matter of fact, “I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t-You don’t sleep?” Arthur said, a genuine surprise in his voice at what Micah said. Now that he thought about it though, he realized that he has actually never seen the man sleep before. He’s never seen him sleep, never seen him in his sleepwear and never even seen him lay down. In fact, he didn’t even think Micah had his own tent or a cot to begin with.

“Nope.”

“That’s a load of crap,” Arthur said and waved his hand at Micah, “Everybody's gotta sleep.”

“Not me.”

Despite how outlandish the statement sounded, Arthur found himself believing Micah; If the wrinkles and bags under the man’s eyes were anything to go by.

As if it only now dawned upon him, Arthur cocked his head at Micah and said, “So what did you come here for then? Watch me sleep?”

Micah chuckled, the same way he did when he wanted to undermine someone or simply be an ass.

“If that’s what you want, cowpoke,” he said.

Arthur was far too tired to engage in a pointless verbal quarrel with Micah.

Without replying anything else, he shook his head, got under the thin covers of the hotel bed and turned his back to him, determined to not let the presence of the blonde man ruin his rest.

The sleep didn’t come to him as easily as he hoped. He was hyper aware of Micah behind his back, and in the dead silence of the night, could hear the faint sound of him inhaling the cigarette smoke. He squirmed in the bed, tossing and turning as if the position was at fault for his restlessness and not Micah Bell the Third’s eyes which he could feel on his back.

“I had a brother once,” Micah said, breaking the silence, “Suppose I still do.”

Upon hearing Micah’s voice, Arthur stopped moving and laid still, listening.

“We ran together for a while; me, him and our pa. Did a lot of good stuff. Did a lot of bad stuff. You might’ve even read some of it in the papers,” Micah added with a snicker. “I trusted him. We was brothers, beyond the sense of the word.”

Micah was silent for a good while after, letting his words settle in the air and letting his own thoughts settle as well. The images of all the vile savagery they’ve done together; robbing, stealing, killing, assaulting; flooded his brain, and he couldn’t help but smile at the recollection. The smile fell however, as he remembered what followed after; his brother's hesitations, his wanting to go straight and to leave the life behind. The anger that always boiled inside of Micah came on raging as he remembered the last time he and his brother talked before the latter bailed on him and his father.

Any jest left his voice as he continued. “And then he found himself a whore, knocked her up and hightailed to the West. Last I heard he’s living a cushy rancher life in California.”

The cigarette between his fingers was long forgotten, the cinder from it falling to the ground.

Arthur was now laying on his back, his head slightly towards Micah. “What’s his name?”

“Amos. Amos Bell.”

Arthur let the newfound information settle in his head, before he finally asked, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Micah shrugged his shoulders before saying, “Thought you might like a bedtime story, seeing as you couldn’t fall asleep.”

Arthur groaned before closing his eyes and said, “Remind me to never let you near Jack.”

Whether it was Micah’s “bedtime story” or the exhaustion finally getting the better of him, but within a few minutes Arthur was out, sprawled out on the hotel bed, light snores coming out of his open mouth.

Micah, just as he said, didn’t sleep all throughout the night. He smoked a couple more cigarettes, drank some whiskey, checked the cabinets and the dressers, and even read Arthur’s journal. The man was deep in slumber, judging by his snores, so Micah didn’t feel any hesitation to reach into his satchel and pull out the one item that Arthur was always protective over.

He casually flipped through the pages; a drawing of a horse, a drawing of a bunny, another drawing of a horse, a portrait of a random camp member, another drawing of a horse?! For a moment, he thought Arthur was carrying around Jack’s drawing journal, with all the doodles of horses and squirrels and birds that he saw there. That was until he started coming upon short chronicles and daily logs, some of them detailing mundane things such as the bounties Arthur caught or strangers that he helped, other, more grim, such as plans of bank robberies and the friends who had fallen.

As he flipped through the pages, a log caught his attention.

November 12, 1898

Got into a bar fight when Dutch tried to sell that gold we found few weeks back. The locals don’t seem to take too kindly to strangers in these parts. Can’t blame them. We was fighting to an inch of our life when a stranger joined in. I wasn’t sure if he was on our side or not, but when the opposition started dropping, I understood. Micah Bell's name is, I think. Dutch offered him to join the gang, and he accepted. Not sure what I think of him yet. He seems hot headed and reckless, but he’s good with his guns and that’s all that matters. We’ll see.

As he flipped to the next page, something that almost never happened with Micah did; he was caught by surprise.

The very next page after the previous log was fully dedicated to a portrait of him. His mouth hung ajar as he looked at himself on the paper. The carefully drawn eyes, the long, unkempt hair, the horseshoe mustache, and his classic white hat. Even the fire and the fury in his eyes was translated onto the paper, and in the top right corner, two letters in cursive, MB.

All of a sudden, Micah felt flustered, another emotion that rarely made an appearance. He shot close the journal, a little too suddenly, and his eyes flew to Arthur’s sleeping form on the bed. He was sprawled on the bed, sheets entangled in his legs and his arms above his head, still sleeping. Micah walked to the nightstand where Arthur satchel was and slid the journal back inside before going to his previous position by the window.

The night was as dark as ever, with the sky littered with innumerable stars. Micah lit yet another cigarette and brought it to his lips. He hesitated for a moment, sending a side glance to Arthur. Vulnerable and frail, asleep and practically naked, Micah could kill him right now. No one would hear a thing as he’d plunge the knife deep into Arthur’s chest, killing him so quickly Arthur would barely have a moment to open his eyes. It would take hours for them to realize something was wrong, and at that point, Micah would be long gone, his horse’s footprints the only thing left.

A small rasp from Arthur brought Micah back to reality. He shuffled a bit, turning to his side before pulling the covers tighter over his body. The night once again fell quiet, only the sound of coyotes crying in the distance. Micah stood motionless for a few seconds, his hands itching, before he turned his attention back to the window and put the cigarette back to his lips.

#arthur morgan #micah bell #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 one shot #arthur morgan one shot #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 headcanon #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfiction #micah bell imagine

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goldenwitherphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Its time for a probrably wrong union X theory!

Welcome to my first ever attempt at a theory.yall are here to watch ne be wrong. Lmoa.

Union X is coming to an end and its time share with you my big end game theories connecting the dots of kingdom hearts 3 and Re:Mind to Union X. And that is by using some solid evidence from the games and from the light novels. Yes. I'm going there.

This first bit is to do with the idea that Vanitas is the Darkness that possessed Ven in Union X. Now, this could easily be disproven right? Well I think I can actually bring validity to it.

Fist there's the obvious evidence that Vanitas claims that "what I am is Darkness" in Kingdom Hearts 3 and hes been a part of Ven longer than he thinks, he was only extracted is something he mentioned in Re:Mind. This can be written off by him being all the pure darkness in Vens heart, but could be taken as him being the entity darkness.

Ok. So, remember how I said I would talk about the light novels? Well, in said light novels, Vanitas is said to originally have no face/true corporeal form, having the form more like dark Rikus outfit thing, but thanks to Sora touching Vens heart, he gained a more humanish form.

Well.... darkness in Union X...

uhhhh....They have... no form. Just a cloud of purple and black with a figure resemblent of a human form in the center, if you look closely.

And if it were extracted from Vens heart by Xehanort to make Vanitas, that means darkness returns to lay within Ven dormant after the Union leaders defeat it, even when he travels to the time of Birth by Sleep! That or it has left remnents of itself within him to ensure darkness will follow into the future. Either way, it or part of it was in Ven until Xehanort took it away along with the natural darkness of his heart.

But if that's the case, then that would mean Vanitas wasn't technically a part of Ventus, but had resided there so long that that's what he believed. Because memories are stripped when they time travel. Does that effect darkness? Making it thinks its always been Vens darkness and Vens Darkness alone all this time.

Now for things to get a bit wonkey

There's still a big question lurking. What the hell is up with Dark inferno X? (chi pronounced key) its picture is below.

The bio from Re:Mind states "The darkness that erupted out of Ventus's heart and turned into an aggressive heartless. But the voice that was heard at the time intimated that it was "darkness" itself. What did that mean..."

INDEED WHAT!

Well, let's not forget the basic rule of the Kingdom hearts universe. If your heart is lost or Overcome by darkness it becomes a heartless.

Xehanorts heartless, Ansem, possessed Riku in Kingdom hearts 1 when it became a weak heart like spirit... who's to say other heartless who are strong enough can't do the same thing? And the design... who is one person with similar attributes like... a scarf, that Ventus at least encountered or knew?

Ephemer.

Quick point I'll refer to later, but remember, we see Ephemer help Sora with the light of the past later on in kingdom hearts 3. The keyblades all come to life with the hearts of the fallen weilders and stuff and Sora surfs them because video game. Now, this bit is a little confusing. What was Ephemer doing in the white void? Was that a ghostly form of his nobody or something? An appiration? Just his ghost? The moment he arrived in the future?

Well, the moment of him arriving can be crossed of I think. Where did he go if that were the case? Ephemer appearing in that moment does throw a spaner in the world, but I might be able to pull it out and fix the theory prediction.

My theory for this part is that the Ephemer we see in KH3... is Ephemers nobody in a ghost like form waiting for his heartless, Dark Inferno X.

His heartless must of found a way to hide or travel through time and went to hide within Ven's heart like Ansem did to Riku, but it has to be after Vanitas was removed. Otherwise, Dark inferno X would of been extracted by Xehanort too. The entity of darkness or its remnents, however, was with Ven when he travelled through time.

I think the best answer is Ephemers nobody died in the travel or after, is now a spirit, and helped the heroes of light. He's just waiting for his heartless to be destroyed so he can return as his somebody. And now that Sora has defeated it... who's to say we won't see him soon.

Oh and I think the secret Dark Inferno X boss in 3 was just a test for the remind one and went through a minor design change. Image comparison below, pictures from Google.

Kh3 Re:Mind

The unversed floods did the same thing between birth by sleep, bbs final mix and 3 after all going blue to purple and back to blue (I like them purple).

I really don't want to believe that it was Strelitzias heartless and that she might be able to return. I'd rather her remain a permanent death like the keyblade wilders of Union X, Master Eraqus and Master Xehanort. Its nice having a concept of death in Kingdom Hearts.

Where was I? Oh yes. I think Dark inferno X is Ephemers Heartless.

Now for one more problem. How Dark inferno X got to Ventus.

From what I see, it has 2 routes.

1: use the Ark and escape into the future. This leaves only a broken pod in the Union X time so Blain can not join the other leaders. Ephemer just has to wait. The only problem here is how Dark inferno X located Ven and got into castle oblivion without a hitch. Though I guess it did have 10 years to look.

2: hide in someone's keyblade. We've seen hearts contained by keyblades so I don't see why it can't happen again. A curse to the masters defender. I think it atratches its heart to the keyblade and thats how it escaped into Ven. When Aqua left him in Castle oblivion, the heartless snook away and hid within him, waiting for Vens heart to arrive so it could hide better and we could get the scene in Remind.

Either way, thats where Ephemers heartless would reside until it was reawakened.

So, to summarise what we've discussed into a timeline.

The Union leaders battle and defeat Darkness. Maybe temporarily, maybe for good. We don't know until its too late. It probably starts talking about some cryptic stuff, quoting things yet to be heard, who knows. This is where I believe Darkness overtakes Ephemer and turns his heart into dark inferno X (hence why it introduced itself to Sora as Darkness in Re:Mind. In a panic, Skuld and Blaine probably carry their unconscious friends out and flee to the ark, the time travel pods, darknesses remnants inside Ventus's heart and stays dormant until they are brought out. After waking the other 2 up and healing them Skuld, Lauriam and Ven go though the Ark pods, possibly joined by Elrena, and Blaine then stays behind and searches for Ephemers nobody. Hoping to reunite and reconnect the dark inferno X to Ephemer.

Dark inferno X then hides away or travels to the future. I mean, I don't expect it to fit in the ark pods, but it might hide away in there or something. If it does then heres the first scenario.

There is one broken pod left. Blaine does his best to fix it, but its not safe enough so Ephemers nobody dies going through and it ends up as a spirit thing, waiting and searching for its heartless. Oh! And Blaine doesn't figure out how to properly build the things so he decides to remain in this time.

Dark inferno X then searches attaches to Ven to hide away.

The other scenario is it hides away in masters defender and slips by then. Blain sends Ephemer through, but since he's a nobody, things don't go smoothly and Ephemers Nobody probably dies in travel.

The generations pass and everything happens.

Dark inferno X is defeated by Sora.

The end game is coning.

And that's it. That's the whole theory. Here's to hope the Union leaders come out on top in the Union X finale, Sora is saved in the next game and Ven finally gets therapy once he recovers these memories. Actually let's order therapy for everyone!

Also speaking of Ven, Nomura, if you hurt my boy again, I'm gonna punch you.

Theres a reason I made this cringy meme! (art of Ventus by me its one of my older arts of him)

Phoenix out!

(Ps: reply or reblog with inaccuracies)

#kingdom hearts #ventus #Ephemer #vanitas #dark inferno x #kh ux #kh #union x #theory #kh ventus #kh ephemer #look

52 notes · View notes

nostalgic-pancakes · 3 years

Text

you look bizarre, in the apricot

Summary: Thomas Sanders and Nico Flores VS The Town of Night Vale: An Epistolary from the outside.

Pairings: Pintoverts, Cecilos and Gen friendships otherwise

Read on AO3

Word count: 976

Warnings: Unreality, reality being really weird, sparsely described body horror. I am not as good of a surrealism writer as Min, this is my first foray even remotely into the genre, but I hope to make more stuff like this sometime! Stay Safe

Other notes: For Min! hope you enjoy <3

Tagged: @sometimes-love-is-enough

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joan: u there yet?

Me (15:03): yes!! Sending a photo real quick

Me: (IMAGE.png)

[Image description: Thomas and Nico, both fairly suntanned, facing the camera with some parts of their faces awkwardly cropped off. However, it’s easy to see that they are both grinning wildly in front of a new house, reminiscent of fifties suburbia behind them, with a small pile of boxes near the door.]

Me (15:94): we’re gonna be unpacking now

Me (15:94): byeeeeee!!

Joan: Wait what’s up with your clock thing?

Me (15:95): dunno looks fine to me

Joan: yea prolly a glitch

Joan: see ya

…

Google Search History:

What foods cause hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations? Should you listen to hallucinations of fictional characters you created? Should you listen to hallucinations trying to help you? Why are writing objects banned in night vale Why does internet explorer work better in night vale Internet freaking explorer why Night vale Night vale news What is wrong with night vale What are the secret police

delete history?

...

“And now: Traffic.

Today on traffic, as we can see, the formerly fictitious aspects of a newcomer’s personality, Mr. Thomas Foley Sanders are currently running amok, amongst the many vehicles in today’s commute. However, Thomas is a rare case of someone who has enough internal strife that he feels the need to regularly bring out his aspects. For the rest of us, we either live in blissful, absolute ignorance, or neverending guilt.

Props to Mr. Sanders for trying to find his way through the deceptive caverns of the conscious and subconscious mind, but I would really rather get into our real traffic report, instead of talking about the state of vehicles in the city. This is boooooooring!”

...

Call history:

Joan Sticks (45:15) Tally (28:10) Nico my beloved (10:59) Joan Sticks (10:12) Joan Sticks (1:19:34) Nico my beloved (11:102) Carlos ? (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Carlos The Scientist Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Cecil Palmer (???) Nico my beloved (???) Patton (???) Logan (???) Virgil (???) Roman (???) Janus (+Remus) (???)

…

Group Chatroom with: Joan Sticks, Tallycat, Nico my beloved

Nico: @Joan @Tallycat I think something’s wrong with this town

Me: yes why is there a secret police

Me: why

Me: frickin w h y

Me: and the sides? Real

Me: i have pictures!! Evidence!!

Me: [IMAGE.png] [IMAGE2.png]

[Image Description 1: the sides and Thomas in a large cuddle pile. They are toppled together and making obvious contact, with fabric becoming creased under contact points.]

[Image Description 2: The Sides, Nico and Thomas are cooking together. It is going badly.]

…

EXISTENTIAL CRISES! | Sanders Sides

“And for today’s sponsor, we have a minor switch! Today we are sponsored by Big Rico’s Pizza!” says Thomas, a bunch of pixels on hundreds of thousands of screens.

“Now in two more flavors- one with vegan pepperoni and cheese, for anyone to enjoy, and of course, for all our eternal scouts, void. Simply void .Nobody does a slice like Big Rico’s! No one.” Thomas seems surprised at his own nonchalance at what he’s saying, but he gets a thumbs up from a hand just barely in camera view, and continues.

“Anyways- go to the checkout, enter the promo code thomassandersAAAAAAA and order some Big Rico’s Pizza today! Now, on to the episode”

Comments (3,030)

CosmicAce 1991 Why is the last thing on Thomas’s twitter from a month ago and WHY IS THIS VIDEO SIX MONTHS LATE?

Berry-Blast Ngl love the hugging- care to share a process reel? Aren’t Joan and Talyn too far away to work on this anymore? Let's Go Ghost When are we getting a new cartoon therapy?

Patton-Patoff WHERE ARE THE CORNERS?? THIS DOES NOT WORK WITH GREENSCREEN?? HOW DID THEY JUST… DO ANYTHING IN THIS VIDEO??

Minute Where is the checkout? Can’t find it. Also hi nico!

Cecil Jaws Stan All hail the glow cloud

DreadfulZombie19 These existential crises are… uncomfortable to say the least. Thank you for at least adding trigger warnings. Speaking of which, where are the SVS redux epilepsy warnings?

…

Google Search History for: Joan Stokes

Plane tickets to night vale Plane tickets to night vale, usa Which state is night vale in Where is night vale Driving map to night vale What is a delta airlines flight 27 Why is my friend from night vale acting so weird Night vale radio How to get friend out of night vale

…

Sanders Jaws! @ThomasSanders

Video is going to be delayed by about a week- Tuesday got cancelled, you see. No worries! As soon as it’s back, there will be a new Cartoon Therapy!

Replies

Min-Ding-Ding-Ding @arealsword Hope Tuesday’s doing alright

I really like flowers @sodoroses

What is actually going on is Thomas okay what is happening

…

Using Gravity Falls to cope with strange events in life! | Cartoon Therapy

Comments (1,048)

Minerva

Dang wonder what’s been going on.

…

Call transcript: Thomas Sanders, Joan Sticks, Nico my Beloved (xx:xx:xx)

“But here’s the thing- it used to be really scary-”

“Terrifying.”

“Yeah, but now? I guess we just have an all-powerful glow cloud (all hail) on the school board.”

“And we also have a sentient hand as my swimming coach. She’s cool.”

“How- How are you so cool with all this?”

“Stockholm syndrome?”

“I mean, the sides are real people here, so I get to have my crises off camera for once, which is nice.”

“Joan!!!” “Joan!” “Joan <3”

“One sec guys, I’ll give you the phone in a minute!”

“Okayyyyy” “How did Roman pull off pronouncing the heart emoticon?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Well, if you’re happy…”

“Don’t worry too much about us, buddy. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah! Carlos and I are going to be at a Slap-Poetry contest against Thomas and Cecil!”

“Mmhm. Well, goodnight then. Love you both.”

“Love you too!”

“Yeah! Love you too, Joan!”

#Sanders Sides #Welcome to Night Vale #sanders sides fanfiction #do not repost #cecil palmer

24 notes · View notes

caffeinatedbraincell · 3 years

Note

Thank you so much for the wonderfully sweet andromaquynh story! 🥰💖 if I may request more since I saw the Touch sheet and uh I’m in love:

24. Whispering in their ear, lips touching their skin, either pairing

Thank you for this ask Shatters!!! And for encouraging me along the way<3 I know it took forever but I hope you enjoy this!

Read on AO3

The door of Dr. Shukla’s office rattled. Inside, Joe took a sharp breath. Nicky threaded their hands together beneath the table, murmuring reassuringly.

A second later, the doctor walked in, large yellow folder in hand and a stethoscope slung across her neck. Joe and Nicky stood to greet her.

“Please, be seated. It’s alright,” she said, voice low and steady. “I’m Dr. Shukla, a neurologist. I have some CTs and MRIs here of Mr. Yusuf Al-Kaysani’s brain that we’ll be discussing today.”

Joe exhaled shakily as they all sat down. Next to him, Nicky cleared his throat.

“How bad is it, doctor?”

“Good and bad aren’t diagnoses, Mr.…”

“Al-Kaysani. I’m his husband. But call me Nicky, please.”

“Of course, Nicky.” She extracted the prints from the folder. “There is no easy way to put this. The truth is, the symptoms Yusuf is presenting with, and these images from his scans, make it very likely that what we’re dealing with here is early-onset dementia. Possibly Alzheimer’s.”

In the silence that followed, Joe sighed in relief. Finally, someone had said the words. It wasn’t a vague suspicion hanging over his head anymore. It was reality. They could work with reality.

Next to him, Nicky was arguing with the doctor.

“…but how can you be sure? Scans are inconclusive when it comes to diagnosing-”

“I would not have brought this diagnosis to the table if there was any better explanation for what Yusuf is experiencing. Any at all.”

“But-”

“Nicolò.” Joe moved his hand to Nicky’s thigh. He looked at the doctor. “So where do we go from here?”

Dr. Shukla leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “I will not mislead you, Yusuf. There is no cure. But there are treatments - therapies, medications, management strategies - that can slow the progression of the disease. You can still live a long and meaningful life.”

“Of course he’ll live a long and meaningful life!” Nicky exclaimed.

“Tesoro, please-”

“Look,” Dr. Shukla said. “I know this is extremely hard. For both of you. But what’s important in this moment is that you take your time to process this news and adapt to it. Be there for each other, and be patient with each other.” She stood and walked over to her computer. “I’m going to put in a prescription for something called Razelon; it’s a cholinesterase inhibitor that will reduce early behavioral symptoms and boost cognitive function.”

“Do we need to pick it up today?” Nicky asked.

“Yes. Yusuf, I’m starting you off on half a pill. We’ll see how you react to it. If it works for you, we can modify the dose as necessary going forward.”

As they stepped out of the clinic into the stinging wind, Joe pulled his coat tighter against his body. At his side, Nicky fumbled with his phone, pulling up the prescription.

“Razelon,” he muttered to himself, typing it into Google. “Look, Joe, it seems to be a fairly common and effective treatment. Actually, it’s good the doctors caught this early. I’m sure we can-”

“Nicky.”

“-make this work until something more effective comes out. Alzheimer’s research is at a revolutionary place right now and-”

“Nicky…”

“-there’s definitely going to be some new, highly effective treatments on the market in a few-”

“Nicolò!”

Nicky froze where he was reaching for his car keys, lips pressed into a thin line. “What?”

“My love, we’ve had over one thousand years together.” Joe stepped forward, gently taking his hands. “Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

Nicky shoved him away lightly. “Stop it, Joe. That’s nothing to joke about.”

“Listen-”

“No, you listen. I don’t care if it’s been a millennium. If you don’t think I’m going to fight tooth and nail for every second - every single second - we can possibly have together, then you’re wrong. You’re wrong.”

“I will fight with you, my love, I swear. But-”

“But what?”

“But I cannot watch you mourn me while I am still here. Promise me this changes nothing between us, Nicky. I don’t want you to treat me like I’m suddenly made of glass.”

“Says the person who tried to wrap me in literal bubble wrap when we discovered we were mortal.”

Joe snorted. “Touché.”

Nicky stared at him for a second. Then, he leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet. “Get in the car. I’ll buy you a caramel frappucino by the pharmacy, yeah?”

***

“Joe, don’t forget, Nile’s coming over at 8 tonight for dinner, so we’ll have to be back at least an hour before that.”

“I don’t know, tesoro, forgetting is kind of what I do best now,” Joe quipped from the couch.

Nicky stuck his head out of the kitchen testily. “Still not funny, you asshole.”

It has been several months since that fateful day at the clinic, and Joe could tell he was getting worse. He didn’t feel it, exactly; the Razelon was helping, and Dr. Shukla had added an antidepressant to his prescription to ward off the vague sense of dread and loss that sometimes settled in his chest.

No, Joe could tell he was getting worse because of Nicky. The way Nicky never let him make the same mistake twice. Joe had forgotten to take his medication one night, and ever since, Nicky made a ritual of bringing it to him with a glass of water after they brushed their teeth. A few mornings ago, Nicky had seen Joe walk away from the coffee machine without turning it on, and ever since, there would be a freshly brewed pot of coffee on the table before Joe woke up.

It was as if by covering for Joe enough, Nicky could pretend this wasn’t happening at all. Joe frowned deeply at the thought.

“Hey,” Nicky said, coming to sit next to Joe. “What’s wrong, hayati? Would you rather stay in today than go to the beach? I won’t mind, you know.”

Joe shook his head. “No, it’s not that, it’s…” He furrowed his brow, then sighed in defeat. “Nevermind. Let’s just go to… the place. What you said.”

“The beach?”

“Mhm. Let’s go to the beach.”

“Alright. I’ll get us a bag.” Nicky kissed Joe’s forehead gently and got up to leave.

“Nicky, wait.”

“Yes, love?”

“Is it- Am I getting a lot worse, do you think?” Joe blurted.

Nicky frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s just- You didn’t let me pay rent this month. Usually you remind me, but you did it yourself last week, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did? I don’t want to make things any harder for you than they already are. Let me be there for you in these little ways, ya qalbi.”

“You are. You’re always there for me. But you’re doing so much now, too much, and I feel like I’m not pulling my weight anymore. I don’t want to become a- a…”

“A burden?”

Joe was already shaking his head, having clocked the disappointment in Nicky’s eyes. “No! No, Nicky, that’s not what I-”

“Joe. I think we should move back to Malta.”

Joe paused, a little taken aback. “Back to Malta? Like, for good?”

“For good.”

“We’ll be far away from Nile and Booker, though.”

“They can come visit whenever they want. They’re still immortal, Joe. We’re not. I want to spend the time we have left in the place I married you one thousand years ago.”

Joe stood up and looped his arms around Nicky’s neck. He grinned as Nicky’s arms circled his waist, pulling him closer. “And you say I’m an incurable romantic.”

Nicky laughed. “So you’re okay with that, then?” he asked, hopeful eyes searching Joe’s.

“More than okay. I can’t wait, amore.”

***

Dinner with Nile was a lovely time, as always.

“How is Booker doing, sorellina?” Nicky asked as he dished second helpings of lasagne onto everyone’s plates.

“Fine,” Nile said with her mouth full. “His therapy group is taking a field trip to the Met tonight, so he couldn’t come. But he said to bring him back some food.”

Joe laughed, turning to Nicky with delight. “Sir, be sure to pack this young lady your restaurant’s finest lasagne, to-go.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “If Booker wants food, he can come get some himself,” he grumbled, nevertheless grabbing a clean tupperware from the counter. “It’s been ages since he’s shown his face around here.”

“He wants to come all the time, I promise,” Nile reassured him. “It’s just so busy now, between jobs and therapy-”

“I keep telling Nicky we can still work the jobs,” Joe cut in. “Just because we’re mortal doesn’t mean we can’t help with intel and stuff. Or Nicky can, at least.”

“And I keep telling you it’s not necessary,” Nile countered, gentle but firm. “It’s important that you two spend this time with each other. And anyway, Booker and I are managing just fine.”

“It can’t be easy, though.” Nicky popped open a bottle of wine. “Do you mind non-alcoholic, Nile? If so, I can pull up another-”

“No, no, non-alcoholic is great. And to tell you the truth, we are taking on less now. Choosing our battles more carefully. But the ones we choose, we’re fighting them better, I think.”

Joe sat back, smiling fondly. “Good. Good. I think we’ve all been prioritizing doing a better job of living. But the offer always stands, Nile. If you two ever need some extra hands, we’re here.”

Over lasagne and wine, the conversation ebbed and flowed late into the night. It was nearly 2AM when Joe stood up, yawning.

“Bed, habibi?” Nicky asked.

“Hmm. I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Let me get you your medicine. Nile, would you mind moving the dishes to the sink? I’ll be back in a minute to wash them.”

Nile stood up, piling the dishes together. Joe and Nicky walked towards the bedroom.

As Joe settled into bed, Nicky puttered around to arrange his pills and a glass of water.

“Nicky, we forgot to tell Nile about the plan. That we’re going to move back to, uh…” Joe’s eyes widened in mild horror as he struggled to remember. “Malta! Malta. We’re moving back to Malta.”

Nicky walked over to him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He lovingly cupped Joe’s face, leaning in to rest their foreheads together.

“I’ll tell her. Here. You take this medicine and rest. I should go-”

“Do you want to see what I drew at the beach?” Joe cut in. He didn’t want Nicky to leave just yet.

“Ya amar, of course I do. Where is your sketchbook, still in the bag? I’ll get it.”

Nicky handed him the book, and Joe flipped through it until he found what he was looking for.

“It would have been better if I had colors, but…”

He held out the book to Nicky, who promptly forgot how to breathe. Done in nothing but ordinary pencil graphite was his own profile, set against the background of a stunning black and white sunset. The fading rays of light gleamed on the ocean’s surface, and the waves looked, magically, like they could move.

“Do you like it?” Joe asked. Nicky realized he’d been staring in silence. He set the book on the nightstand and wrapped a hand behind Joe’s head, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I love it,” he said, kissing him again. “I love you. It’s beautiful. Everything you make is beautiful, but this one especially so. And you’re beautiful.”

Joe giggled beneath the onslaught of kisses and praise. “You’re a sap. Now go, Nile is waiting for you.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going.”

“Nicky?”

“Hmm?”

“Come back soon.”

Nicky grinned. “It’s almost 3AM. I won’t be long; Nile is probably exhausted, too.”

“Tell her to stay the night,” Joe mumbled, already half asleep. “Too late to drive.”

“I’ll tell her, love. Sleep well.”

“Tell me what?” Nile asked as Nicky returned to the living room.

“To stay the night, it’s late.” He looked towards the kitchen. “Where are the dishes?”

“I washed them, they’re on the drying rack.”

“Sorellina! You are a guest!”

“I’m family. I can help with the dishes,” Nile argued, rolling her eyes.

Nicky smiled, settling down next to her on the couch. Nile shifted, curling up close to his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

“How are you doing?” she asked after a beat.

“Fine, Joe’s been-”

“I said you, Nicky.”

Nicky hesitated. “I’m alright, I think. Life is not harder now, not really. It’s nice to spend our days enjoying each other’s company, without having to worry about jobs and stuff. But…”

“But?”

“I can’t shake this sense of… loss? Our every interaction is tinged with it. He is the one diagnosed, but sometimes it feels like I’m the one who’s losing my sense of reality. I feel untethered.” Nicky broke off with a dry chuckle. “He gets upset if I’m too sad around him, so I try not to show it.”

“Oh.”

“Is it terribly greedy of me, Nile?”

“What?”

“That we’ve had over a thousand years together, more than anyone else in human history, and all I can think of is that it’s not enough. That I’m not ready. That I want more.”

“Love always wants more, Nicky. And no one is ever ready, no matter how much or how little time we have. Like, Andy and Quynh, right? You knew them for centuries, I knew them for a few years. But neither of us were ready to lose them.”

“I can’t do that again, Nile,” Nicky said wearily, feeling the full weight of his years. “I can’t mourn anyone else. I can’t mourn Joe.”

“You already are.”

Nicky’s eyes snapped to hers. “Wha- what do you mean by that? He said something like that, too.”

“You’re mourning the parts of him he’s already forgotten. You’re mourning the Joe who remembered his sisters’ names. The Joe who could differentiate San Paolo ‘34 from Berlin ‘27. The Joe who-”

“Stop.” Nicky squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s still here. My Joe is still here.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Nile said. “Think about the Joe you fell in love with outside of Jerusalem, Nicky. Now think of Joe sleeping inside. Everything has changed, but you still love him. What was it you fell in love with, the one thing that’s remained constant? His body? His mind?”

“His soul.”

“And can Alzheimer’s touch that? Can death?”

Nicky sniffled. He kissed the top of Nile’s head. “You’re far too wise for your age, you know.”

“I’ve had practice,” she mumbled.

“Yeah. Let’s get you to bed, alright? Will you stay the night?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

Nile ended up finding out about Malta the next morning, when Joe mentioned moving plans to Nicky over breakfast.

“You didn’t tell her last night, tesoro?”

“I meant to. But I guess we were all really tired.”

“I think it’s a great idea. When are you two planning to move?” Nile asked.

“As soon as possible. Joe and I were looking at flights for this weekend.”

Nile nodded. “Booker and I can help you pack. How’s tonight?”

“Fine, if a bit early. We don’t have that much stuff,” Joe said between sips of coffee. “At least not here. There are some things in the safehouses…”

“Sure. You and Nicky make a list whenever you’re free, and I’ll make a few trips with Booker and ship everything to the Malta address.”

“You’re an angel, sorellina,” Nicky said.

In the comfortable silence that followed, Joe looked back and forth between them, trying to memorize this moment. Nicolò di Genova is reading the paper, he thought. Nile Freeman is eating toast. Nile is married to Sebastien Le Livre, whom we call Booker. Booker isn’t here because he was- he had-

“Did Booker send you any pictures from the Met?” Nicky asked Nile.

Ah. He’d gone to the Met with his therapy group.

Nile shook her head. “A few cute ones they took outside, but I think the exhibit they went to see didn’t allow photography. He’ll probably have some brochure pictures to talk our ears off about later, though.” She smiled fondly. “It’s our turn to bring something over for dinner tonight, okay?”

“Absolutely not,” Nicky argued. “I love cooking for you guys. Let me make dinner. You’ll be stuck with your own cooking once we leave for Malta, anyway.”

Nile gasped in mock offense. “Well, someone has an inflated sense of their own abilities.”

“Habibi, listen, she’s disparaging my cooking,” Nicky complained.

“You insulted her first, my love. If you can dish it, you’d better take it.”

Nile laughed at the look of utter betrayal on Nicky’s face as she walked her empty plate to the sink.

“I’m gonna head out,” she said. “I’ll be back with Booker around 7. And fine, looks like dinner’s on you, Nicky.”

“I’m making poisoned mushroom risotto.”

“Suit yourself, I’m not the one who’s mortal.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Nicky muttered around a grin as Nile and Joe high-fived. “See you later, Nile.”

***

Midnights were Nicky’s favorite part of Malta. The sky hung heavy like a black velvet blanket, and the sparkle of the stars reminded him of Joe’s eyes.

In the months since they’d arrived, Joe’s health had taken an undeniable turn for the worse. They’d talked to Dr. Shukla and doubled his dose of Razelon. Soon after, they’d doubled it again. But the disease progressed with a vengeance of lifetimes, as if it was trying to recompense Joe’s immortality by cutting his mortal life short.

Nowadays, Nicky almost never left Joe’s side, from waking him up in the morning, to bathing him, to feeding him, to taking him on long walks to visit their favorite places.

And truly, there was nowhere he’d rather be. But Nicky was wracked with guilt over the terrifying intensity with which he missed Joe. He found himself clinging fervently to Joe’s few and far-between moments of lucidity, dreading the day when Joe would look at him and no longer remember his name.

A tear startled Nicky as it slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, leaning over the balcony railing and breathing in the sleeping city.

“Nicky?”

Nicky whirled around. “Joe? You’re not asleep?”

“I woke up. I- I missed you.”

“Oh, my love, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d wake up. Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

As they settled back under the covers together, Joe reached for Nicky’s hand and squeezed gently.

“What is it, hayati?”

“Nicky, I need to tell you something.”

Nicky turned to face him. “I’m listening.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

There was a tense pause. Then-

“Do you know how much I look forward to this, Joe? These brief minutes when you’re present, fully alert and oriented? Tell me, have I waited for this moment only to hear you say those words?”

“I just- I want you to know that you can leave. This is only going to get worse, Nicky. You didn’t sign up to change my diapers.”

“I didn’t sign up for immortality, either. But I embraced over a thousand years of it, Joe. Because I was in it with you.”

Joe rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling and blinking back tears.

Nicky groaned, propping himself up on an elbow. “Listen here, you idiot. I know I can leave. I could’ve left when you offered me your hand outside of Jerusalem. I could’ve left when we had our first fight. I could’ve left when we lost Quynh. I could’ve left after WWII, when we became so depressed that we could hardly stand the sight of each other.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Of course I didn’t. I love you, Joe. I don’t ever want to leave you.” He paused. “Unless you want me to.”

“And if I say I do want you to?”

“I’d tell you not to be a martyr.” Nicky sighed in frustration. “What would you do if it were me, Joe? Would you walk away?”

Joe’s breath hitched. He immediately shook his head.

“Why?” Nicky barrelled on. “Because of some twisted sense of morality? Because of some obligation-”

“Because I love you, amore. I would suffer a hundred deaths to spend just one hour more in your arms.”

Nicky slowly lay back down. He cupped Joe’s tear-stained cheek, tenderly guiding their lips together in a warm kiss.

“See? Can we drop this, now?”

Joe nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, ya qalbi.”

They drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, exchanging quiet kisses and hums of contentment. The next morning, Nicky realized he’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

It was their wedding anniversary. Their original wedding anniversary, the approximate date they’d gotten married in Malta over a thousand years ago.

Nicky had meant to be absolutely insufferable about it, to go on and on about it from at least three days prior. That way, Joe would remember. He wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of forgetting, or the reality that his dementia no longer afforded him keeping track of the date.

Instead, Nicky had all but forgotten as well, only to be jarringly reminded by the date flashing on his phone.

He cursed as he fiddled with the coffee machine, analyzing his options. First option, he could simply remind Joe that today was their anniversary. Slip it into casual conversation or something.

But then he imagined Joe’s eyes going wide with shock and sadness as it sunk in that this is where they were at, now. He imagined Joe apologizing profusely for not planning anything special for Nicky. He imagined the guilt that any further attempts to celebrate would be tinged with, and that just wouldn’t do.

Second option, Nicky decided. He would simply not say anything. They’d treat this just like any other day, and what Joe didn’t remember wouldn’t hurt him. Something ugly twisted in Nicky’s gut at the thought that this could be their last anniversary together, but he stubbornly shoved it down. He could do this for Joe.

“Nicky?” Joe’s voice echoed down the hall. Nicky quickly switched on the coffee machine and returned to their bedroom.

“You’re awake already, love. Did you sleep well?”

Joe nodded, looking a little dazed. Slowly, his eyes focused on Nicky. He smiled. “Can we go brush my teeth? I want to kiss you.”

Nicky laughed, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. “How about a kiss first, beautiful?”

Joe’s smile went soft, his gaze drifting languidly to Nicky’s lips. “Okay.”

Nicky reached for Joe’s hand as they kissed, threading their fingers together. Joe made a small noise of happiness, draping his other arm over Nicky’s shoulder and pressing closer.

This is enough, Nicky realized with startling clarity. This is more than enough for celebrating today. If he’s happy, I’m happy.

***

Awareness was strange for Joe, these days. Dr. Shukla had told him that no two people experience Alzheimer’s the same way; it was better to observe what happens than to expect a specific process.

These days, life often felt like working on the corner of a painting, some zoomed-in fragment for his mind to get lost in. He would zone out and zone back in, switching between his immediate reality and some dark, floaty place deep inside his consciousness. Any concept of the “bigger picture” seemed uncannily absent.

It would be terrifying, he knew, if not for Nicky. My husband, Joe thought fondly. That, at least, he had not forgotten yet.

Joe’s body still remembered perfectly well what his mind could no longer articulate. Nicky’s hand in his hand, Nicky’s lips on his lips. The instinctive way he’d reach out for comfort and find Nicky there, calm eyes and steady arms and gentle smile.

“Joe?”

With tremendous effort, Joe pulled himself out of his thoughts, trying to focus on the voice. “Hmm?”

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t strain yourself.” Nicky rested a hand on Joe’s shoulder, and he immediately relaxed. “I’m making pastizzi. You remember pastizzi?”

Joe furrowed his brow. He doubted the word alone would have meant anything to him, but combined with the savory smell wafting from the kitchen, a fuzzy memory clicked into place.

“Favorite.”

Nicky chuckled softly. “That’s right. It’s your favorite.”

“Special. It’s for special days. Is today something special?”

Nicky startled like a deer in headlights. “Uh, wha- Yes! Of course it is.” He leaned down to kiss Joe’s curls. “Every day with you is so, so special, my love. It goes without saying, does it not?”

Joe grinned guilelessly, taking Nicky’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Is Andromache coming?”

“Andromache is not here, sweetheart.” Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe, swaying gently from side to side. “It’s just us, for now.”

“That sounds nice, too.”

“What do you want to do after breakfast today?”

“Draw. I want to draw you. But can we take a nap first?”

“Of course.” Nicky unwound his arms from Joe and walked into the kitchen. “You got up too early today, habibi. I told you, you should rest more. You’ll be tired all day, otherwise.”

“I only like to sleep with you, tesoro.”

Nicky barked out a laugh. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Here, let’s eat. Then we’ll nap together.”

Joe enjoyed breakfast, taking comfort in the familiar, grounding taste of Nicky’s homemade pastizzi. And he definitely enjoyed falling asleep in his husband’s arms, head pillowed on Nicky’s chest, bathed in the late morning sunlight.

When Joe woke up, it was in one of those increasingly rare and precious moments of clarity. Nicky lay beside him, still fast asleep. Joe stared unabashedly, marveling at how Nicky managed to look even more soft and peaceful than usual in his sleep. He reached for his sketchbook and began drawing.

As the hours passed, portraits turned into poetry, and poetry into letters. Joe wondered, for a moment, if he should wake Nicky up for lunch, but he was loath to disrupt the little rest that Nicky managed to get these days.

Instead, Joe sat quietly by his side, taking advantage of his own lucidity to write a letter to Nile and Booker. He vaguely recalled Nicky mentioning that they would visit at some point, and he wanted to make sure he could convey what he wanted to say to them.

Just as Joe was wrapping up, Nicky stirred beside him.

“Joe?” he said, voice rough with sleep.

“Sono qui.”

Nicky glanced at the bedside clock. He scrambled to sit up, gently taking Joe’s face in his hands.

“Hayati, why didn’t you wake me? It’s three in the afternoon! Oh my love, aren’t you hungry? Did you drink water today?”

Joe smiled, kissing Nicky softly. “I went and drank water. I accidentally dropped a glass, though-”

“That’s alright.”

“-and don’t worry, I’m not hungry yet. Breakfast was very filling. You looked so relaxed sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you for no reason.”

“I’m so sorry, Joe, I didn’t mean to crash like that. How long have you been up?”

“Since noon. But please, amore, don’t apologize. You deserve to rest.” Nicky opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Joe pushed on. “Do you want to see what I drew? And I wrote you a poem, can I read it to you?”

Nicky’s expression softened, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders. “Absolutely, Joe. Show me everything you’ve sketched and written. Then we can go out for a late lunch, okay?”

To Joe’s immense satisfaction, the mental fog largely stayed away for the rest of the day. There were moments, of course, when all he could do was hold Nicky’s hand and follow his footsteps, mind eerily blank except for the buzz of physical sensation right beneath the surface.

But for the most part, Joe was present. He recognized by name the café they stopped by for lunch and the restaurant they went to for dinner. In between, when they visited il-Moskea, Joe was able to pray properly for the first time in weeks. Nicky had prayed alongside him, and as Joe listened to the quiet recitation of Quran verses from his lips, peace had seemed so easy. So reachable.

“Lean forward, hayati,” Nicky murmured. The moment they’d come home, Nicky had started a hot bath for Joe. Joe complied, leaning forward until the lightly scented bubbles tickled his beard. “Feels good?” Nicky asked, swiping a washcloth over his back.

“So good. Ti amo, Nicky.”

“Ti amo tanto. Now lean back, let’s rinse.”

“Did we- did we used to do this before?”

“What, bathing?” Nicky teased.

“Shut up. I mean, bathing each other. It feels familiar. An ancient ritual from way before I got sick.”

“Hmm.”

“But I can’t remember, Nicky. I visit the place in my heart where I stored those memories, and it’s empty. Like they’ve been stolen.”

Joe heard the distress creep into his tone, and he was sure Nicky could hear it, too. Sure enough, Nicky set the washcloth down and cupped Joe’s face.

“Hey, shhh. Just breathe, my love. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“I feel like I keep hurting you when I forget important things about us. I don’t want to make you sad. But I can’t help it, Nicky, I don’t know-”

“Joe, ya amar, this isn’t your fault. You never make me sad, do you hear me? And it’s okay if you can’t remember. Getting to be here with you, in this moment, is so much more important to me than anything that came before.”

Joe lowered his eyes, unconvinced.

Nicky sighed. “Hey. The water is getting cold. Let me get your towel from the dryer, I’ll just be a moment.”

Seconds after Nicky left, his phone buzzed, sliding from the toilet lid to the floor. Joe frowned, extending a shaky arm out of the tub to put it back.

But as he picked up the phone, Joe caught sight of the date. June 18th. His frown deepened. June 18th, June 18th, June 18th…

Joe had no idea how he did it, but somehow, he managed to put two and two together. The pastizzi for breakfast. Their favorite restaurants. The trip to the mosque. The way Nicky’s hands had been impossibly gentler today, the way his eyes shined even softer with love.

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s our anniversary?” Joe demanded as soon as Nicky set foot in the bathroom.

Nicky froze. “Joe. How in God’s name did you remember that?”

“I figured it out.”

Nicky set the freshly washed towel on the toilet lid and knelt by the tub. “Joe-”

“You were celebrating it without telling me.” Joe sniffled, mortified to feel tears pooling in his eyes. Of all the things dementia had taken from him, this had to be the worst. He hadn’t even bought Nicky a present.

“Yusuf, please. Please let me explain?” Nicky begged, reaching into the tepid water to hold Joe’s hands.

Joe shook his head, feeling the tears slip loose. Nicky drew a shaky breath, leaning forward to kiss them away. He was crying, too, Joe realized with a start.

“Perdonami, my heart. Perdonami. I didn’t think you’d remember. I didn’t say anything because you would have been devastated that- that it’s gotten this bad. I couldn’t bear you blaming yourself for something so utterly out of your control.”

Joe didn’t reply.

“Joe, listen to me. It’s just a date on the calendar, my love.”

“I don’t want to forget you,” Joe whispered.

A sob caught in Nicky’s throat. He pulled off his shirt and stepped into the tub, wrapping Joe in his arms. Joe tucked his face into Nicky’s neck and cried like a baby.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Nicky croaked, rocking them back and forth. “Everything will be okay.”

It was late by the time they dried off and made it to bed, not bothering with clothes. Joe watched as Nicky put a second comforter at the foot of their bed, in case it got cold during the night. When they were finally snuggled together beneath the covers, Joe spoke.

“Nicky?”

“Hmm?”

“If- when I forget you, will you forgive me?”

Nicky pulled him closer, inhaling deeply as he tangled a hand in Joe’s hair. “There will be nothing to forgive, hayati.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose-”

“I know, Yusuf. I know. You never need to explain yourself to me.”

“Nicolò, promise me that- promise me that you won’t forget. Please don’t forget me.” Joe muffled a whimper, pressing closer until he could feel Nicky’s heart beating against his chest.

There was a long silence. When Nicky spoke, his voice was the steadiest Joe had ever heard.

“My beloved, I promise you that I will not forget. Whether or not you remember, whether or not you can even tell I’m there, I will be at your side for as long as we have together. I will take care of you in every way I know how. And when there is nothing left to do, I will honor your memory until my dying breath. I promise.”

Joe couldn’t reply, couldn’t breathe, as he felt his eyes well up again. His husband rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back, and gradually, the moment of terror passed. Joe relaxed into the sensation, falling asleep to the rhythm of Nicky’s heart and the echo of his magnanimous words.

***

“He doesn’t speak much, now,” Nicky briefed Nile and Booker as he helped carry their overnight bags in. “You’ll have to introduce yourselves.”

Months had passed since their anniversary, and Nicky was adjusting to this new life right alongside Joe. Their dynamic had changed, but their love had not.

Joe no longer walked up behind Nicky and hugged him while he cooked. Nicky no longer woke up at 2AM to find Joe hunched over his sketchbook, struck by some untimely inspiration. They’d never had much need for words, but now, verbal conversation was even rarer.

Instead, they spoke the well-loved language of gentle touches, of midday naps wrapped in each other’s arms. A spontaneous kiss never failed to make Joe smile, and Joe’s smile was enough to make Nicky’s entire day. Their interactions fell back on a bedrock of trust one thousand years in the making. Of course there were bad days - days colored with grief and sickness and loneliness - but far more often, Nicky found his heart flooded with quiet gratitude.

“Hello, Joe,” Nile said, kneeling in front of Joe’s chair and taking his hand. “I’m Nile. It’s lovely to see you.”

Joe said nothing, but his lips curved up in a tentative smile. Booker came forward and knelt next to Nile.

“Hey, buddy. It’s Booker. Long time no see. I don’t know how much of this you understand, Joe, but I hope you know that we love you. So, so much.”

“Hmm,” Joe grunted softly. He turned his other palm over in his lap, as if in invitation. Booker wrapped his hands around Joe’s, eyes shining as he brought it to his lips with reverence.

“I think he knows, Booker,” Nicky smiled fondly. “Come on, I made rice. You two must be hungry from the long plane ride.”

It was later that night, after everyone had eaten and napped, that Nicky remembered about the letters. Joe sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket, watching with interest as Nicky, Nile, and Booker played Snakes & Ladders on the coffee table.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Nicky exclaimed.

“What?” Nile asked.

“No, no, no - stop trying to distract us,” Booker said shrewdly. “You’re about to land on that snake and you know it. No cheating.”

Nile laughed. “He’s right. Take the fall, old man. You’re back to square five. Come on.”

Nicky scowled, sliding his piece all the way down the board. He’d been so close to winning.

From the couch, Joe snickered. Nile and Booker looked at him in surprise.

“He understands what’s going on?” Booker asked incredulously.

“Just enough to know when to laugh at me.” Nicky rolled his eyes, stopping to kiss Joe’s forehead as he walked away. A soft smile melted across Joe’s face, and he snuggled deeper into his blanket.

“I didn’t think he could get any more adorable, but here we are,” Nile commented. “Joe, you’re a sap, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk,” Nicky countered as he returned with the envelopes. “Remind me again what you gave Booker for your last anniversary?”

“A five-page poem comparing our love to the heavens from five different religious traditions,” Booker bragged. “It was the best thing I’ve ever read.”

Nile blushed furiously. “Alright, alright. Point taken. Hey, what are those?”

Nicky held up the envelopes. “Joe wrote us letters a few months back. One is for you two, and the other one is for me. But he said I couldn’t open mine until I gave you guys yours.”

Nicky handed Nile one of the envelopes and slipped the other into the pocket of his hoodie. Joe watched with mild curiosity, clearly not recognizing the letters.

“Should we call it a night?” Booker asked. “It’s nearly 1AM.”

“Quitting while you’re in the lead, Book?” Nicky teased. “But no, I think that’s a great idea. Joe would normally have slept hours ago.”

“He doesn’t look tired,” Nile observed.

“That’s because he’s entertained. He loves when people visit.”

The four of them walked towards the bedrooms. Nile and Booker waved goodbye to Joe as Nicky guided him into their room, before continuing down the hallway to the guest room.

“Nicky’s set everything up for us,” Nile appreciated. “These sheets are so soft.”

“That man works too hard. I worry about him.” Booker ran a hand through his hair fretfully. “I don’t know, Nile, I feel like we should hang around here more. Help Nicky out, spend more time with Joe.”

Nile stepped out of her clothes and curled up under the covers. Booker followed suit.

“We could,” she agreed. “I would appreciate the change of pace. And of course, having the family together will be nice.”

“But you would get restless.”

“Me and you both, Book.” Nile turned to face him, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I know, I know the point of immortality isn’t to fight all the time. But when we’re not fighting, I feel like we’re wasting this gift.”

“Yeah. I’ve had centuries longer to get used to immortality, and I still feel that way.”

“Maybe we could visit more often?”

“Hmm,” Booker smiled. “That would be nice.”

“Hey. Should we open Joe’s letter?”

“Oh, yeah! Definitely.” Booker propped himself up against the headboard, holding out an arm to Nile. She snuggled up next to him, carefully opening the envelope.

“Here we go.”

***

There were good days, and there were bad days. Nicky had spent centuries caring for the world, and now, he savored the years he’d been given to care for his world.

Nile and Booker visited more now, and Nicky sensed, deep down, that something had changed. Late-stage Alzheimer’s had not been easy on Joe - the darkness that came with cognitive decline was an extremely unpleasant experience for someone who preferred putting their emotions into words. And then, as Joe’s motor skills wore down, he’d found himself increasingly cut off from his art. Nicky had ached for him, helpless to provide much relief.

But these days, there was a calmness about Joe that hadn’t been there before. The anxiety gave way to an aura of peace, especially when Joe could see or hear Nicky nearby. Often, Nicky would stop whatever he was doing to just come sit with Joe, trying to absorb some of his serenity. It was like being in the presence of someone deep in meditation.

One night, Nicky returned to their bedroom after doing the dishes to find Joe sitting up against the headboard.

“Still awake, hayati?” He shook out the sheets as he undressed for bed, not expecting a response.

“Nicolò.”

Nicky froze. Surely he’d hallucinated that; it had been over a year since Joe was able to recognize him by name. He didn’t dare look up.

“Nicolò, my beloved,” Joe repeated, voice hoarse with disuse. Nicky closed his eyes, clamping down on a sob. He tossed the sheets aside and crawled into bed, reaching for Joe.

“What is it?” Nicky asked as he took Joe’s hands in his own, kissing his cold knuckles. “Tell me.”

“It’s time.”

“No,” Nicky shook his head, wrapping his arms around Joe. He was utterly unprepared for this. “No, no, please God, please, no…”

Nicky clung to Joe, sobbing unrestrainedly into his shoulder. This couldn’t be happening. This was madness. A nightmare, Nicky decided - a particularly torturous nightmare that he would soon wake up from. And Joe would be next to him, perfectly fine, their lives untouched by this ugly monster of a disease.

When he finally calmed down enough to pull back, Nicky found Joe watching him, eyes round with unshed tears. The moment of lucidity had passed, Nicky realized. All Joe could see now was his seemingly causeless distress.

Joe tightened his grip on Nicky’s arm minutely in a silent question, and Nicky almost wanted to laugh. Even now, Joe was still checking in with him.

“It’s nothing, love.” Nicky wiped his eyes quickly. “Let’s sleep, yeah? You must be tired.”

Nicky helped Joe lie down on his back before lying down next to him. He pulled Joe closer, gently kissing the shell of his ear.

“I love you,” Nicky murmured, the words feeling like too much and not enough. “I’m going to tell you a story tonight, okay?”

Joe grunted his assent, already half asleep. Nicky closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to ground himself. He thought back to Joe’s letter, to the words he’d memorized the very night he read them.

When the time comes, amore mio, I ask that you hold me close. And speak to me, please. I want to hear everything - how we met in Jerusalem, our adventures with Andy and Quynh, all the bets you lost to Booker, the delight on Nile’s face when you let her use the paints you’d preserved from the 1500s. I want to hear about all the times we got married, and all the anniversaries we celebrated. Most of all, Nicky, I want to hear your voice. I want to move on from this world surrounded by you, your beautiful voice, your loving hands.

And in case I can’t tell you then, I love you. Deep down, I think I’ve always loved you, even before we made peace. And I know I will always love you, be it in this world or the next. Please never doubt this, my all. I love you so much.

Nicky struggled for a moment to regain control, overwhelmed at the memory. Then, lips touching Joe’s ear, he began to speak. He held Joe in his arms as he whispered their story into the silence of the night. Joe sighed deeply in his sleep, pliant in Nicky’s embrace.

Nicky had no idea how long he continued on - hours, at least. There was so much to say. He talked and talked until he fell asleep next to Joe, right where he belonged.

***

“Abort mission,” Nile hissed into the comms. “Code Red. Meet me at the checkpoint ASAP.”

Minutes later, Booker jogged up to the checkpoint. “What happened? Are you okay? I’d almost gotten through-” Booker stopped, noticing Nile’s tear-streaked face. His tone softened immediately. “Mon amour, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Nile sniffled. “Joe’s gone, Book. He’s gone.”

Booker staggered backwards like he’d been slapped. “Gone?! What the fuck do you mean, gone?”

Nile pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle a sob. “Voicemail.” She held out her phone.

Booker put the phone to his ear and listened. He heard Nicky’s voice, quiet and anguished, but felt oddly removed from the whole situation. What language was Nicky speaking? It sounded like Italian, so why wasn’t it making sense?

“Hey, Book? Talk to me, love. Hey.”

Nile’s voice, Booker thought. It sounded like she was talking to him through a very long cardboard tube. His vision swam. Everything seemed so distorted.

“Booker!”

The next thing he knew, Booker was blinking up at Nile from the ground, head half in her lap.

“Do not pass out on me,” Nile muttered through gritted teeth. “Get up, Book, please. I can’t do this. Not alone. Please.”

Booker felt an itch on his cheek, but when he reached up to scratch it, his hand came away wet with tears. Nicky’s words, tinny and wrecked with sorrow, floated back into his head.

It suddenly struck him that Nicky was an ocean away, alone with his grief. Booker pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to Nile.

“Come on. We have to go to Malta.”

They fought on the trip, during a two-hour layover in Spain. Exhausted, hungry, and grieving, it was no surprise their tempers ran unusually short.

“What do you mean, let him be?” Nile assuredly did not yell. She was simply disagreeing loudly. “He’s lost his life partner of a thousand years, Book! He needs support - he needs family.”

“And what makes you think we can be that for him? What makes you think we can even start to fill the void left by Joe’s absence?!”

“It’s not about filling the damn void-”

“You don’t know what it’s like! When I lost my mortal wife, I felt like I’d lost everything! Even though I had Andy, and Joe, and Nicky, and- and you.”

“You were entitled to your grief, Book. So is Nicky. But I lost people too, so don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what it’s like. I’m immortal, too. I’ve lost my parents. It’s not just you.”

“No, that’s not- Listen! It took me centuries, centuries, to overcome that grief. I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t have done it if I had a choice. All I’m saying is… Nicky has a choice, Nile. He’s mortal.”

Nile’s eyes went wide. “So you’re saying we just- let him take his own life?!”

“I’m saying it’s not our decision to make! And it’s not… morally wrong or something if he chooses that. Look, chronic pain is real, Nile, whether it’s physical or emotional. Everyone who can has a right to opt out.”

“This isn’t the same thing as euthenasia, Book.”

“It’s not so different either, is it?”

There was a minute of silence as they stared daggers at each other across the terminal bench. Then Booker sighed.

“They’re closer than we could ever imagine, Nile. They’re one soul, two bodies. If he wants to go, we have to let him go.”

Nile sat down, running a hand down her face in devastation. “What about the letter?”

“What letter?”

“You know what letter. Joe’s letter. He asked us for one thing, Booker. One thing only. And that was that we don’t let Nicky die of a broken heart.”

“It doesn’t matter. Joe’s not here. Nicky is.”

“How could you dismiss his last wishes like that?”

“Nile, look at me. What do you think Joe wants above all else? What’s the only thing he’s ever really wanted?”

“For Nicky to be happy,” Nile whispered after a beat. “Love, can’t we at least try? Can’t we just… be there for him?”

“Of course,” Booker said, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. “Of course. But we cannot choose for him, amour. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Nile sniffled, not entirely convinced. “Okay. I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

“I’m sorry, too. I’m just really…” Booker waved a hand in the air, trying to find the words. “Broken. I feel broken. Like I’m not myself.”

“I understand. I feel like that, too.”

“Hey. We don’t board for another 20 minutes. Can I get you a coffee?”

Nile managed a tired half-smile. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

***

In the end, it took four days of sleeping on Nicky’s couch for them to convince Nicky to drink water. It was another two days before he could keep down any food.

On the ninth day, Nicky broke down in front of them for the first time, crying his heart out as Booker and Nile just held him, murmuring gentle nothings and waiting out the tears.

They decided, at length, to take the year off from missions. They stayed with Nicky in the large house, trying to make it feel less empty. The grief would hit each of them at different times, and when it did, the other two would be there, always ready to lend a shoulder to cry on.

Within a year, the depression was slowly starting to lift. None of them had quite moved on, but they were very deliberately trying to make peace with this new reality.

Nicky fell back on simple rituals. Across from his bed, where he could see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night, he pinned up one of Joe’s charcoal self-portraits. Nicky loved it for how raw and alive it was in its beauty; not simply an image of Joe, but one that still carried traces of his fingertips in the sweeping strokes, the perspective of his eyes in the lighting.

Every morning, Nicky would kiss the tips of his fingers and press them to the bottom of the portrait in benediction. Then, he would close his eyes, letting the love and sorrow flow freely in his chest for a few minutes.

“I will see you again, hayati,” he would say. “Wait for me by the gates of Heaven, just as you did by the gates of Jerusalem. I will be with you again soon.”

It was a ritual that Nile and Booker supported wholeheartedly.

“Tell Joe to say hi to Andy for me,” Booker would add.

“Tell Joe I miss him. No one else will geek out with me over the Impressionist Movement,” Nile would grumble.

Sometimes, Nicky thought, it was like Joe was simply away on a mission. Like he would walk back through the door at any moment.

“Maybe he never left,” Nile mused once when Nicky voiced this thought. The three of them were sitting on the veranda, sipping hot tea and watching people mull about on the street.

Nicky frowned. “I want his soul to be at peace, Nile. Not wandering around like a ghost.”

“You know what they say. Not all who wander are lost.”

“I do feel like he’s here, sometimes,” Nicky confessed. “People say that your loved ones never truly leave you, that they stay alive in your heart, but I always figured it was a metaphor. I never imagined it could feel so real.”

“Can I ask you something, Nicky?” Booker’s voice shook slightly with hesitation.

“Hmm, go ahead.”

“How- how did you survive?”

Nicky rubbed his eyes. “Joe would never forgive me if I didn’t. That was the main reason. But I also believe that this is my penance.”

“For what?”

“For how we met. For what I did to him, to his people, his family. All this pain - being without him, mourning him - this is what finally cleanses me of my actions. It hurts, every day it hurts, but I can’t bring myself to run from it.” He stared down into his tea for a long moment. “I will continue on until it is my time, because it’s what my Joe would have wanted.”

***

Three years after Joe’s passing, Nicky finally gathered the courage to sort through his things. As he carried a stack of notebooks from the closet to the bed, one slipped to the ground and fell open.

Nicky set the others down and picked it up, running his fingertips over the page. It was a poem, written in Joe’s familiar cursive.

Empires rise and fall In a blink of God’s eye, The laws of nature bend As what’s mortal becomes divine. And the realization dawns When I see I’m left behind, Humankind’s greatest inheritance Is losing something to time.

As Nicky contemplated this, his cell phone blared to life on the nightstand. He reached for it distractedly.

“Hello?”

“Nicky,” Nile gasped on the other end.

“Nile? Dio, isn’t it like 3AM there?”

“Yeah, I woke up. How fast can you get to Medina?”

“Uh… I could book a flight for a few hours out?”

“Great, do that. Booker and I are already on the way to the airport.”

“Wha- Nile, slow down. What’s going on?”

There was a brief pause. Then-

“We had this dream. There’s a new one.”

16 notes · View notes

azumasoroshi · 3 years

Text

i am in a storytelling mood and you all will now be forced to listen to it

So back in sophomore year, I had this final project for the end of the year. We had to make a book trailer with a partner, and our book was Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay. It's about this high schooler who goes to the Philippines to investigate why his cousin died.

Our school was not an art school; it was just a regular public high school, and so we were not expected to draw the whole thing. We were expected to find some videos, or film ourselves acting stuff out, or use Ken Burns effects on stock images in iMovie. My partner certainly thought that using stock images would be a good idea, and she legitimately saw no problem with the original "final product" of our iMovie low budget shitty production.

However, my dumbass was excited, because I liked animating and the plot of the book allowed for some very interesting imagery. I had ideas, oh so many ideas.

I was a fool.

Because the one fatal thing my dumbass forgot to take into consideration was that I was, and still am, a serial procrastinator.

(the trailer is below the cut)

So, after getting pretty much nothing done, midnight arrived on the due date. And I was terrified, but in that "eh it doesn't really matter" kind of terrified way because I was an emotionless husk and couldn't feel any emotions other than “welp”.

I had maybe 10 seconds done of what was roughly supposed to be a 1 minute and 30 second long video.

My English class started at 10:05.

“Well you had 10 hours, Soro-“ NO I DIDNT

because i had to LEAVE for school at 6:30 and i had chemistry, java, and health between 7:30 and 10:00 so i couldn’t do any of my work during those periods.

So I had about 6 hours to make an entire book trailer. Whoop.

I started off well enough with the Gising Na Ph! posts. Except I didn’t start off well at all and I spent at least two of my six hours trying to figure out how hands worked before finally letting go of any honor I had left in my being and just tracing stock images.

Now, my partner had gotten a few good images on her version of the movie, which she’d graciously sent to me so that I could scrap most of it. And I wasn’t intending to use any of them in the slightest, but by this point it was about 2 am, and I figured I should hustle a little bit. I was planning to import her iMovie into my iMovie and take the photos from there. Easy enough, right?

The file got corrupted somehow and I had to reverse image search every single image that I wanted to use by screenshotting them from the movie rather than having the photos themselves. And for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to try to resemble my partner’s movie as closely as possible, which meant using the same photos. Could I have just found different stock photos? Yes. Was I in my right mind at the time? No. Did I even consider trying to find different photos? Not until 5 am.

Now, along with the movie being corrupted, that also meant that my partner’s recorded voice lines were inaccessible to me. That meant I had to record my own. At 5 am.

I have several friends who are very talented voice actors. They live in Britain, so it wasn’t too early for them. They’d already expressed that they were willing to help two weeks prior, back when I thought I wasn’t going to procrastinate. Should I have asked them? Hell fucking yes. Did I? Well, I just so happened to ask the only one of them that wasn’t awake at the time. Luck and reason are on my side, clearly.

5:30 am, I realized that my friend probably wasn’t going to answer on time. And it just so happened that one of my irl friends had woken up, for some ungodly reason like sleeping on time or something. I quite literally begged him to record two voice lines for me, and lo and behold, he actually did it. He sounded deader on the inside than me, but his character just so happened to require being dead inside, so that ended up working out. He recorded the voice lines on Notability. That was pretty funny.

(around 6 am my british friend saw my message and he was like oh shit whoops ill do it now and i had to awkwardly explain to him that i found a replacement. that wasnt a fun conversation to have at 6 am)

6:30 am I was in the car. The movie was almost done; I just needed one final image of Jun and Jay together, and I wasn’t going to find that on Google Images. I drew it during health class. My teacher definitely noticed and was probably pissed.

10:00 am. I actually went into the bathroom stalls during the 5 minute transition period between classes, pulled out my headphones, and listened to the whole thing just to check it over. (I’m overly paranoid about how loud my voice is in recordings due to a certain incident that won’t be explained in this post) It sounded fine. Everything was fine. It was all good.

10:05 am, English started. A few other groups went before me. I was ready to present. I had the movie open on my iPad, and I was resigned to my fate. I tried my hardest, somehow. That was enough. My partner hadn’t gotten to check over my movie at all, so she had no idea what was about to happen. That was fine.

11:00 am. Class...ended?

waiit shit that isn’t right. i spent all night working on that movie trailer and i didnt get to present it???

WELL, as it turns out, my AirPlay wasn’t working or something and the method of sharing to Google Drive was apparently too time-consuming, so I had to present the next day. A whole nother 24 hours, just handed to me like that. I could do anything I wanted with the movie in that period of time.

What the fuck.

“So you definitely removed the stock photos and made your movie even better in that time, right, Soro?” oh FUCK no dude i got home at 3, yelled to my friends for an hour about how mad I was, and then fell asleep at 4 pm and didn’t wake up until 6:00 am.

I presented this movie the next day.

I got an A+.

#the moral of the story is that i am a terrible partner #i never did get to know what my partner thought of the movie #she actually emailed me while i was asleep and was like ‘hey can i like. see the movie’#i emailed it to her and she never responded #the voices are edited obviously #i sure do wonder which voice is mine #im sick right now and it’s 11 pm but i cant sleep so i wrote this #ill hide most of it under a ‘read more’ cut once i get off mobile #long post #storytime with soro #this shit is the only exciting stuff that happens to me #its all school related #the background music is from how to eat life/inochi no tabekata by eve #soro's art

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

If You Just Realize

Part Eleven: Time to Realize

Summary: New hope is sparked for Sebastian and Y/N after their date. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2360 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Night terrors, almost smut (is that a warning?). Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat.

Series Masterlist

Image found via Google Image Search.

When Milena woke from her nap, Sebastian informed her that she would be going to her grandparents’ house for the evening while Sebastian and Y/N went out for a little while.

As she ate her snack of grapes and crackers, Milena frowned. “You’ll come get me later?”

Sebastian nodded. “I promise, we’ll come get you later. Unless you want to sleep at Bunica’s house?”

The little girl shook her head adamantly. “No, here! In my room!”

“In your room it is, then,” Y/N assured, kissing the top of Milena’s head. “We’ll try to hurry so that we get you before you go to sleep, but even if you fall asleep over there, you’ll wake up over here. Okay?”

Milena seemed to be appeased for the time being; she nodded and went back to her snack. Sebastian and Y/N exchanged a worried glance. Though they had an appointment the next week with the child psychologist, the terrors had seemed to be a thing of the past.

“When you’re done with your snack, why don’t you go fill up your backpack with the things you want to take over there?” Sebastian suggested.

She finished her snack quickly after that, then raced to her room to get her things together.

“Do you want me to take her over there? Or go with you?” Y/N offered.

Sebastian shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I’ll take her. I don’t mind — I’m going to see if Mom will take her earlier so we can get to dinner earlier and get back to pick her up. I don’t want to trigger another terror.”

She took his hand and squeezed. “We can pick another night, if you want?”

“No, I want us to do this, I don’t want to put it off.”

“Okay. I’m going to go make sure she’s not packing her entire room. Why don’t you call your mom and see when she’s okay with Milena coming over, call the restaurant to make sure we can get a table when we need.”

Sebastian grinned. “I will do all of that, yes.”

Y/N frowned. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“You sound like such a … wife and mom. In a good way, Y/N/N.”

She scowled at him for a moment, but a shy smile soon broke through. She swatted at him for his teasing, but he caught her arm and reached to tickle her side. Y/N shrieked and scrambled to get away, but he held tight and pulled her against his chest. His arms went around her shoulders and hers instinctively wrapped around his middle. Their laughter died down as they both realized this embrace was no friendly, playful hug; there was far more between them than friends and convenient spouses.

Y/N cleared her throat and pulled away from him. “I’m going to check on her, you make those calls.”

Sebastian nodded. He watched her go and wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell her how much he cared for her, without worrying about risking their friendship.

As Y/N padded toward Milena’s room, goosebumps rose over her skin. She had been so warm in Sebastian’s arms. He had been clear, though, that he didn’t want to lose the friendship between them, and she wouldn't allow her own feelings to overshadow what he needed just then.

The drop-off went better than they expected, so Y/N and Sebastian felt much lighter as they headed to dinner. Thanks to a reservation, their table was ready when they arrived.

“You look amazing,” Sebastian smiled over the table at her. “New dress?”

Y/N nodded, blushing. “Sort of. Had it for a while, haven’t had the chance to wear it yet. This seemed like as good an occasion as any. Thank you, for suggesting we do this.”

“Of course. I love having Milena around, but a little one-on-one time is always appreciated. What looks good on the menu?”

They mulled over their options for a few minutes before they both decided. The waiter brought back their requested bottle of wine, took their food order, then left the table. Sebastian poured wine for both of them, then held his glass up in the form of a toast.

“To us,” he smiled, “and making this crazy life work for us.”

“To us,” she returned, clinking her glass gently against his before sipping at her wine. “Mmm, that’s good.”

Sebastian nodded his agreement. “I noticed the boxes from Los Angeles seem to be slowing down.”

“Yes, thank goodness. I didn’t realize how much stuff I had! My assistant got rid of a lot for me, if you can believe that.” She chuckled and blushed a little. “Her new task is going through my mail and sending what didn’t get forwarded that may be important. That should be about it. The landlord is doing the walk through early next week, and that’ll be that.”

“You’re not keeping your place there?”

She shrugged, nervously fiddling with the linen tablecloth. “My lease was up there in a couple of months and I figure if-slash-when I move back, I’ll maybe look at buying a house or getting into a different building.”

“If?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, you know, even after all of this, I want to stay close for Milena. And it’s not like you and I are only going to be friends until this is over. We’re always going to be friends, Seb. You said yourself, you don’t want to lose us, and I don’t either.”

They were both quiet after that. Y/N realized how desperately she wanted him to make some sort of remark that yes, they would always be friends, but that there was potential for more — not even potential for more, but just plain more. That this wasn’t going to end. That she didn’t need her place in Los Angeles because her home was here, with Sebastian and Milena.

“Did I lose you?”

She snapped back to the present, chuckling an apology. “Lost in thought, I suppose. Less talk about me, more about you. How are you doing with all of this? It’s been a lot of change in a short time.”

Sebastian sipped his wine. “I’m getting through. It seems surreal a lot of the time. Milena asked when Irina was coming to get her, you know, and I realized that I’ve subconsciously been waiting for that, too. I have so much good right in front of me — Mom, Anthony, you, Milena, the new house. Life is moving on, but it’s so … so … absurd, honestly, that it’s moving on without Irina.”

“That’s understandable. You both were a big part of each other’s lives. For whatever it’s worth, I think she would be really proud of the way you’re handling this — of everything you’ve already done for Milena.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you here,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

She held tight, but shrugged. “You would have figured it out, you know. I may have helped, but you would do anything for that little girl and for your sister. A person would be a fool not to see that.”

“I just …” Sebastian breathed in deep and let it out, his hand still holding tight to hers. “I don’t know really what I’m trying to say, maybe. You’ve always been my friend, someone I could count on without a doubt. But the way you’ve stepped up here — I won’t keep repeating thanks I’ve already offered. You go and talk about staying here with us though, and it gives me new gratitude. New hope, too.”

New hope. Y/N looked into his eyes, releasing his hand so the waiter could set their plates in front of them, and saw that the hope Sebastian was referring to was quite possibly the same hope she was holding onto that the love she felt for him may one day be mutual.

As promised, Sebastian and Y/N picked Milena up from her grandparents’ house before she was asleep. Georgeta smiled and opened the door for the couple, welcoming them into the house.

“She’s been yawning for an hour,” the grandmother sighed, “but she refused to lay down, even to watch cartoons or something. She just kept saying, ‘Uncle Seb will come, then I can sleep.’”

Sebastian sighed. The counseling appointment couldn’t come soon enough. In the meantime, he would do the only thing he could do: love that little girl more than ever, make sure she felt safe, and tell her as often as possible that as much as he could help it, he would never abandon her.

“Are you so tired?” Y/N cooed, carrying Milena into the house.

Milena nodded against her shoulder. “Do I have to take a bath?”

“We can do that in the morning,” Sebastian offered. “How about you and Y/N go pick out some jammies and I’ll be in soon with your water cup, okay?”

Another nod. Sebastian headed to the kitchen to fill a sippy cup with water — something Irina had actually started, to avoid Milena getting out of bed at all hours — then headed to join them in Milena’s room.

She was already changed into one of her favorite nightgowns, and Y/N was brushing her hair before fixing it into a short, loose braid. Sebastian carried Milena to the bathroom, insisting that she at least brush her teeth before bed. The little girl whimpered but did as she was told.

Once she was finally tucked in, Sebastian reminded her that her cup was on the nightstand, kissed her forehead, hugged her tight, and told her to sleep good.

“Y/N, will you read me a story?”

Y/N nodded. “Okay, but I get to pick out which one.”

She traded a glance with Sebastian, who winked at her before leaving to his own bedroom to change out of his dinner clothes. Maybe he would see if Y/N was up for a movie and some popcorn — it was relatively early, after all.

Only a few minutes later, she joined him in the bedroom, kicking off her shoes at the door.

“We didn’t make it halfway through the story and she was out,” Y/N smiled, “doing that soft little snore she does. Too cute.”

Sebastian grinned and sat at the food of their bed. “Yeah, I know that sound. Most perfect snore I’ve ever heard.”

“Agreed,” she smiled softly, leaning against the doorway.

He met her eyes; the look there wasn’t evoked from Milena’s snoring, he was certain. He drew his bottom lip under his tongue and tilted his head. Y/N’s smile faded, but her eyes stayed bright; God, he had always loved that about her. Obviously, since he had dubbed her nickname from the trait.

In unison and still without speaking, she pushed away from the doorframe and he stood from the bed. They met in the middle, standing without touching for only a few seconds before Sebastian pulled her arms around him, then gently pushed his fingers into her hair, using the movement to tilt her head up towards him so that he could press his lips to hers, soft but urgent.

She pressed into him, her fingers grasping the cotton t-shirt he had just put on. Sebastian kept his hands in her hair, tugging only slightly at the root. A sharp gasp pulled her mouth away from his, and Sebastian could only smile against her lips.

“So maybe I’m not the only one who’s hopeful,” he commented. His voice was low and gravelly; his desire to have her was taking over his entire body.

Y/N shook her head. “Definitely not the only one.”

His smile returned, and so did hers. With a new rush of hope and desire, Sebastian reached just far enough under the hem of her dress to grip the back of her thighs. He picked her up off the floor, still kissing her, and gently set her on the bed.

She scooted back to the pillows, waiting for him to discard his shirt before he knelt onto the mattress. He took in the sight of her, waiting for him to make the next move. He knew the nervous chewing of her bottom lip, the excited half-grin that produced a dimple at the top of her cheek. That look of love and desire wasn’t new, but it wasn’t something he had ever imagined would be directed at him. Wasn’t something he had ever wished was directed at him, honestly, until their wedding night.

“You okay?” Sebastian whispered, reaching for her hand and pulling her into his lap.

She nodded, kissing him softly. “Nervous. But good nervous.”

“Just tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“I trust you,” she assured, softly kissing his bottom lip.

Sebastian pressed his lips firmly to hers. She reacted in kind, nipping at his bottom lip before returning to the kiss. Y/N pushed herself further into his lap so their bodies were flush against each other; the resulting friction tightened his pants and drew a soft moan from her lips. He broke the kiss to put his hands on her thighs and slowly begin pushing the skirt of her dress further up.

“May I?” he chuckled.

She grinned and nodded, claiming his lips again. Sebastian’s hands rested at her hips, his fingers splaying over the back of her lace panties.

A scream broke through the otherwise quiet house. They pushed away from each other in an instant and scrambled off the bed. Sebastian reached for his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head.

“I’ll get her, you can change if you want,” Sebastian offered, walking a few steps backwards before she could catch up with him.

Y/N sighed and turned back to the bedroom, already working the dress over her head. Milena’s cries grew louder, even after Y/N could heard Sebastian trying to soothe his niece. With a million and one thoughts in her head, she discarded her dress and her undergarments, quickly exchanging them for a cotton nightgown and fresh underwear. Knowing how the night terrors usually went, she decided to wash her face and brush her teeth, then padded through the house to join Sebastian and Milena.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @auriandthepussicats @tellmewhatyouwill @itsmycorneroftheinternet

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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demigodreading · 3 years

Text

Ella Gets Shot

*Stole off google because I couldn’t find a gif that I liked*

Summary: First of all, Protective Olivia lives rent free in my damn brain every day... Other than that I am going to let this speak for itself!

Characters: Ella Alina Benson, Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson

Warnings: SPOILERS for end of Season 12 and Season 13, Blood, Gun Violence, Character Death... *I don’t know if I missed something*

Read on AO3

-----------------------------

Olivia didn’t like having Ella walk alone from school to the precinct but today that situation was unavoidable. Ella texted her as soon as she got out and told Olivia the exact time that she should be at the precinct. Once the text was sent Ella placed her earbuds in, turning her favorite song on as loud as she could. Ella danced along to Forget You by CeeLo Green on repeat till she reached the end of her ten-minute walk. Maybe if she had taken off her earbuds like she always did when she got off the elevator she would have heard the commotion that was going on in the bullpen. But by the time she realized what was going on it was already too late.

Elliot released three shots from his gun in rapid succession. The first two went straight into Jenna’s side. As she fell to the floor the trajectory of the third bullet was soon discovered. Olivia looked up, still trying to hold her hand over Sister Peg’s wound. Her eyes were met by a terrified Ella, her hand holding onto her stomach. A large bloodstain was starting to seep through her light gray shirt. Ella pulled away her hand looking down at the blood.

“Mom,” Ella whispered before her eyes rolled back and her legs gave out.

Olivia jumped up from her spot running to her daughter. She got to Ella right before she completely fell to the ground. She held Ella in her arms, placing her hand over the blood that seeped from her stomach. As soon looked down at her daughter, images of Alex Cabot ran through her brain. She remembered the way Alex’s eyes had fluttered shut. The way that Alex’s life seemed to slowly slip away from her body. Ella was doing the exact same thing now. She was living her worst nightmare over.

“Ella! Baby! Ella you have to stay awake,” Olivia said, causing Ella’s eyes to flutter open for a small moment, “There you go. That’s it, baby. Stay with me. Stay with Momma.”

“I’m just so tired Momma,” Ella whispered, “I just want to go to sleep.”

“No! No!” Olivia screamed as Ella’s eyes began to close again, “Ella. Please. Please stay awake.”

Ella opened up her eyes once again, reaching her hand up to gently cup Olivia’s cheek, “I love you, Mom.”

Tears were now rolling down Olivia’s face as she tangled her fingers through Ella’s hand, “I love you too baby girl. Please stay awake Ella. Don’t leave me. Please.”

Olivia kept repeating these words until an EMT lifted Ella’s limp body from her arms and onto the stretcher. With the help of Fin she got to her feet and followed behind her daughter. Elliot watched the scene unfold in front of him as he gently placed his gun down on the floor. He had shot two teenagers. Jenna laid in a pool of her own blood, the EMTs declaring her dead on the scene. The only hope he clung to was the fact that they rushed Ella to the hospital. He couldn’t have killed his partner’s daughter. Not Ella. The girl who had been named after him. He knew that he should go after them but instead, he merely sat frozen to his spot.

----------------

“Are you Ella Benson’s mom?” The nurse asked.

Olivia, her clothes still stained with blood, stood up from her chair in the waiting room, “Yes I am. Is she okay? She went into surgery three hours ago.”

The nurse nodded, “She is asking for you. I can take you to go see her but I would recommend that we change your clothes first.”

Olivia looked down and nodded knowing that she didn’t want the first thing her daughter to see was her mother covered in her own blood. The nurse offered her a pair of scrubs and Olivia changed quickly. Tossing her clothes in an evidence bag Olivia rushed to the room her daughter was staying in. Ella was sitting up in bed with a large bandage covering her stomach. She was flipping through channels on the TV lazily before she looked at the door.

“Momma!” She yelled a smile growing on her face, “Nice outfit.”

“Same to you,” Olivia grinned nodding towards Ella’s light blue hospital gown, “How are you feeling my sweet baby girl?”

“They got me on the good stuff,” Ella giggled, lifting her arm up, “I feel light as a feather!”

Olivia shook her head, kissing Ella’s forehead gently, “I’m glad you aren’t in any pain.”

Ella reached out for Olivia’s hand, “I’m really sorry Momma.” “Oh baby, why are you sorry?” She asked, wiping away Ella’s tears.

“I should have been paying more attention. I had my headphones in and I didn’t hear what was going on. I could have stayed safe,” Ella replied, her shoulders shaking with her sobs, “You always tell me to be aware of my surroundings. I just thought the precinct would be safe.”

“This is not your fault, my beautiful Ella,” Olivia reassured her, kissing her forehead, “You did nothing wrong. I am just glad that you are still here with me.”

“Can you come hold me? ”

“Of course.”

"You aren't going to leave me for some work emergency right?"

"I am not going anywhere, my sweet baby girl. I am going to sit right here next to you."

Ella seemed calmed by this fact and shed a small smile at Olivia. Olivia knew that her daughter had always been terrified of certain things, losing her mother being the top on the list, and she could only imagine the anxiety that Ella was having about this situation. Ella scooted over allowing Olivia to crawl into bed with her. Careful not to get in the way of all the tubes that were sticking out of her Olivia laid down next to her daughter. She wrapped one arm around her allowing Ella to tuck her head on top of her chest. Within moments Ella was sleeping with the sound of Olivia’s heartbeat in her ear. When she was sure that Ella was sleeping Olivia let more tears fall down her face. She kissed the top of Ella’s forehead thanking the world for not taking her daughter away from her.

----------------------------

Ella had just returned home that evening and was now taking residence on Olivia’s bed. Olivia was reluctant to leave her but she needed to return to work. More importantly, she needed to talk to Elliot. She had left him over a dozen voicemails with no response. She was hoping that he would be at the bullpen when she arrived. So with one final kiss on Ella’s forehead, she left her in Mary’s care. Mary assured her that she would call her hour on the hour to update Olivia on Ella’s condition. Olivia thanked her mother and then walked out the door.

As soon as she got to the precinct the world was chaos once again. She was approached by Cragen first, “Olivia, I’m sorry about your weekend.”

“No, it's fine. I don’t want to talk about it,” Olivia said, throwing her hands up.

She placed all of her things on the desk before the Captain filled them in on the situation. As they all rushed off Cragen was greeted by the new blonde detective he had been waiting on. She introduced herself as Amanda Rollins and then immediately jumped into the deep end with the rest of them. He admired that about her and hoped that this kind of attitude could withstand the high intensity of the job she face in front of her

When Olivia was able to bring the witness in for questioning she led her to a table and then went to find Cragen. She was stopped in her tracks by a young attractive blond woman.

“Hi. Amanda Rollins,” The blonde said, extending her hand out.

“Ah transfer from Dallas right?”

“Yeah-well Atlanta,” Amanda said, trying not to correct the beautiful woman that was standing right in front of her.

She did everything in her power to keep the conversation going but Olivia was already annoyed with the distraction. She had other things that needed to get done so she could take her lunch and facetime her daughter. She flat-out ignored the slight flirtation that Amanda threw her way.

“Yeah, yeah I haven’t briefed the captain yet..” Olivia said, turning on her heel and heading into Cragen’s office.

While she was in the debriefing meeting Olivia’s eyes fell upon Elliot’s desk. Still strewn with papers and his personal items he had been missing all day. There was something majorly wrong with the picture Olivia could just feel it. Before she left she politely answered Cabot’s questions about how Ella was doing. Then as soon as she left the room she went outside and called Ella. She smiled as her daughter’s image pulled up on the screen. They talked for a couple of moments before she had to rush off to handle the next emergency in her day.

---------------------

He is like a son to me. Exactly like how you are my daughter and Ella is my granddaughter. It may have been a good shooting but he shot an innocent bystander. Who just so happens to be his partner’s daughter. Ella almost died right here. She almost died in your arms. This isn’t going to go away easily Liv.

The words of Cragen still rang in Olivia’s ear as she left another voicemail on Elliot’s phone. She took a long sip of her beer before Fin sat across the bar from her.

“Elliot’s probably afraid to talk to you Liv,” He said as she pounded on the top of her beer, “Probably doesn’t want you to talk him out of it.”

“Talk him out of what? He is not going to quit.”

“He shot a teenage girl,” Fin sighed, “He shot Ella. By accident but still Olivia. Ella almost died on the floor of the precinct. You can't have already forgiven him for that.”

“Don’t remind me,” Olivia retorted before slamming the rest of her beer, "And don't act like you should know what my emotions are."

----------------------

Olivia shut the door to Cragen’s office, “What is it, Captain?”

“Elliot put his papers in. There was nothing I could do.”

Olivia felt her heart beginning to rip inside her chest as she searched for an answer, “He’s earned it.” “And then some,” Cragen said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you want to take a day?”

“No... please stop trying to be my dad right now,” Olivia said, tears welling in her eyes, “I’m fine.”

“Liv… I’m sorry sweetheart.”

With those final words, she walked out of his office and made her way to the only room she knew she would be safe in. As she leaned up against the wall of the interrogation room she felt the tears falling down her face before she could stop them. Her partner was gone. Without even giving the courtesy of telling her goodbye. Without telling his goddaughter goodbye. It might have been an accident but he could have at least apologized. After all, they had been through she deserved more than this.

-----------------------

Olivia walked into the door of her apartment. Mary was strewn across the couch, the remote almost falling out of her hand as she snored away. Olivia placed a blanket gently over her before moving to her bedroom. Ella was sitting up in bed with a book in her hands. When she saw Olivia she smiled, placing the book down.

“Momma, how was work today?”

Tears filled in Olivia’s eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed, “Ella we need to talk.”

“Why are you crying? Did something happen to PawPaw? Uncle Fin? Uncle Munch?” Ella asked. She didn’t even speak about Elliot anymore. Her nightmares of the incident had constant flashes of his face. She would wake up screaming and crying only able to fall back asleep wrapped in Olivia's arms. Olivia knew it just as much as Ella did the image of him pulling the trigger was burned into her brain. IT was something that she would never forget.

“I know you might not want to talk about it but it’s actually about Elliot,” Olivia sighed, taking Ella’s hand, “He’s not coming back Ella.”

Ella tumbled this thought over in her head before she broke into a complete panic attack. Her body began to shake. Tears rolled down her face. Her breath came in short gasps. Olivia launched herself across the bed taking Ella into her arms. She rocked her gently back and forth until Ella had calmed down.

“Is it my fault he left?” Ella whispered, “He knows that I wasn’t mad at him. The shooting was an accident. I didn’t blame him. He never even gave me a chance to explain.”

Olivia kissed Ella’s temple, “He knew Ella. I promise he knew. This was not your fault.”

That was the first time Olivia ever promised something to Ella that she was unsure if it was true. She had made a habit of promising Ella nothing that she couldn't absolutely guarantee. She didn’t know the answer to Ella’s question but she was sure none of this could have been Ella’s fault. Ella was the victim in all of this. She only knew one thing was certain. Elliot was gone.

#olivia benson #elliot stabler #ella alina benson #fin tutuola #season 13 spoilers #season 12 spoilers #law and order svu #law and order #olivia benson fanfiction #ella alina benson series #baby benson series #this fucking series is my heart and soul #i am way to invested

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

Hauntober prompt Crystals

Nalu requested by @p-r-i-d-e007 AU story with POV switch.

It was a little nerve wracking to bring Natsu back to her home for the first time since they’d started dating two months ago. Up until now, they’d taken things slowly to test out the potentials of a relationship. Dinner dates, movies, walks in the park, just the typical stuff young people do, and yes they passed first base last week when he’d invited her to his apartment.

Lucy really liked Natsu. He was sweet and caring, a bit goofy and silly, but fun to be around. There was never a dull moment whenever they were together. The man was also— hot, like legit firefighter, well built, smoking hot! How he was still single, she had no clue, but Lucy was happy to have landed someone like him when she hadn’t even been looking. Talk about when a blind date goes, right!

“Well, this is it.” Lucy holds the door open for Natsu as he walks in. “It’s not very big, but I loved some of the old architecture of the place.”

He’s immediately greeted by an excited, medium sized white dog. “And who’s this guy?”

“That’s Plue, don’t worry he’s harmless.” Lucy closes the door. “Would you like a tour?” She questions, holding down the nervous energy bubbling inside of her.

“Sure!”

Lucy walks them around the place, showing him each room. The house was a two bedroom, one bath with a living room/dining area, and kitchen separated by an island countertop. It had wood paneling for walls and hardwood flooring except in the kitchen and bathroom which had tile floors. One bedroom had been turned into an office space where she worked on her novels. There, shelves were covered with books of all kinds.

“That’s a lot of books,” he chuckles. “You read them all?”

“Most of them. Some of it I picked up for research, but these,” Lucy shows him a special area, “are my published stories. It’s not much yet, as I build up a name for myself.”

“That’s already a lot considering you made your dreams come true.”

The blonde blushes at his sweet words. “Thank you, Natsu.”

Back in the living room, Lucy shows his her most prized collection. “And this is the real reason I bought this house.” She runs her hand on the edging. “When I saw it had this built-in recessed spot, I knew it would be perfect for my stones. I put up the glass display shelves and hired a carpenter to put up the glass doors.”

“Wow, that is a cool collection! Wouldn’t have pegged you for a rock collector,” he chuckles.

“I know, it’s kinda weird, but I’ve always loved finding interesting stones and crystals.”

Natsu pulls her close and kisses her on the lips, “it’s not weird at all. Better than my old Magic card collection.”

She giggles, “I don’t know, aren’t those worth a lot now?”

“Not in the condition I left them in,” he laughs.

“Oh,” Lucy giggles again, her anxiety slowly melting away. “So, um do you wanna watch a movie or something? I could make us dinner too.”

He rubs his stomach with a silly grin. “Mmm, a home cooked meal? You don’t gotta ask me twice!”

When Natsu leaves Lucy’s home later that evening, he returns to the fire station riding on a mental high. What lucky star had he wished upon to catch such a beautiful and smart woman like Lucy? They were different yet complimentary, her book smarts to his street smarts. But the best part was how comfortable he felt around her. In just two months Natsu felt like they’ve been friends for years and there was nothing he wouldn’t already do for her.

The life of a firefighter had its ups and downs, one of which was the schedule. Four days on, three days off takes time to adjust to, but it made sense to make sure they didn’t burn themselves out; no pun intended. He spends the down times searching Google with an image in his head of the perfect gift to give to Lucy. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for but when he finds it, he’ll know it’s the right one.

‘Perfect!’ Click purchase. Done.

A month later, he takes her out to an expensive restaurant in town. At first Lucy had balked, it was too extravagant! But he’d persuaded her that he just wanted to do something special for their third month anniversary. That made her chuckle. Who celebrates a third month of dating? He did, that’s who when it comes to a woman he was head over heels for.

The night goes well and the meal divine as expected of the place. Natsu places a wrapped box in front of Lucy. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing fancy. Just a small gift for you.”

Lucy’s eyebrow raises as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a small wrapped box of her own. “Jinx! I got you something too.”

Natsu laughs. “Then we’re even.”

They both take their boxes and open them. Natsu being the first. “Wow, this is pretty awesome!” He holds up the flame shaped pendant. “Does it mean anything?”

“It’s called red tigers eye. Supposed to be good for energy and vitality, you know cause your job can get pretty demanding.”

“So, it’ll be my lucky Lucy charm?” He winks.

Lucy blushes, “you goof!” She finishes opening her gift, chuckling dying away the moment her eyes come to rest on its contents. “Oh my! You got me rose quartz?!” It was a beautiful, uncut piece too!

“I think you already had it, but when I was searching it said this one was all about love and new beginnings so I figured one coming from me would be more meaningful.”

She shifts over to hug him excitedly and plant a big kiss on his lips. “I love it!”

“You really love it?” He smirks.

“I really, really love it,” Lucy grins back. “In fact,” she runs her finger down his chest, “I think you’ve earned your home run...”

To give an idea of Lucy’s collection:

#hauntober #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu au #crystals prompt #nalu drabble #nalu fan fic #fairy tail

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 38 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 37 here. Part 39 here.

Summary: Dangerops! Will it hurt baby top of his head???

Words: 5300

Warnings: I googled it and it's possible leave me alone

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Watch me as I slowly descend into madnesssss come with me to helllll!

Hi, thanks everyone for your kind words last week, it means a lot. I feel very lucky and grateful to have support and love. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you are still enjoying the story. We only have a few left to go! I'm very excited to pull everything together, I hope I do it in a satisfying way.

I love y'all very much. There will likely be no chapter for the next week or two. Please forgive me, but I promise I won't be gone long. Stay safe. <3

Seconds ticked by. Despite the rapid beat of your pulse, you didn’t move.

You were petrified, stone in your bed, as your brain attempted to birth the words on your tongue, the words you knew you’d have to say, the words that would change your life forever. To say them to Johana, an invested second-party, was one thing. To say them to the father of your child, your Commander, your owner, your lover--that was something else, entirely. And if you had known he would have returned the day you’d told her, you would have waited. But it was too late for that, now.

Sighing, you stared at your belly. It was too late for a lot of things.

The familiar, powerful stride of Kylo Ren resonated through the hardwood, each step gripping the chambers of your heart, binding tighter as he drew closer. Your mouth was a tundra, frozen and dry, your throat knotted with one thousand thick fears. Another step, and another--your fingers dug into the sheets--another step, and one more--you focused on the ceiling, hoping he wouldn’t see you quaking from the threshold.

The door opened, and there stood your Commander, his broad shoulders flooding the frame, dressed entirely in black--a fitted, tactical jacket, a matching outfit that covered up to his neck, his leather gloves, and knee-high boots. His hair was mussed, wild with sweat, framing his face in a raven storm, and when he gazed at you, sparks of excitement snapped within his eyes. You went to swallow those thousand fears, and they lodged in your larynx, halting any sounds that could have hoped to form. He was a meal you’d been starved of for weeks--you wanted him to fill you, stuff you until hunger was only a memory.

“You’re here,” he said plainly, as if he hadn’t expected to find his slave in the home he owned.

You nodded. Despite it all, his presence let you breathe for the first time in days. None of the words you wanted to say seemed right. “You’re back.”

“A short detour,” he replied. “The Knights and I are headed to finish what we started.”

Blushing, you bit your lip to hide the smile that began to form. You couldn’t remember ever aching to be in someone’s arms. “You wanted to see me.”

His focus traveled over your body, shoulders falling. “You’re safe.” The knot in his throat bobbed, and he met your eyes again. “I’ll be departing shortly.”

“Oh.” You needed to tell him. He needed to know from you before anyone else that you were pregnant. With his child. Chin quivering, you steadied your breath. “I’m… I…” As you stared into him, you met a void. It stole every ember of courage you had. So you told another truth instead. “I really… I really missed you.”

Kylo blinked, head tilting. A muscle in his jaw tensed, and his focus drifted to the floor, shoulders crowding as he drew in air through his nose. He glanced at you, lips parting--and he wet them. “Yes.” Something flashed over his gaze. “Come.”

A distant tingle at the back of your neck. He turned into the hall, and you followed.

Trailing behind him, you cursed yourself. Two words--there were only two words that you needed to say, yet it seemed impossible to get them into the world, the mere notion nauseating. Kylo’s position had the capability to decimate you and your dreams for this child--to think of growing, nurturing, and bearing it for him to raise with another woman was horrifying. And perhaps even more horrifying was the possibility that he’d reject that future with just as much vehemence as you.

On its surface, it seemed ideal--an actualization of what you desperately wanted. But between you and your Commander, a baby became an ultimatum, a jagged iron ball in your chest. He would have to choose between you and Gilead, choose to free you or possess you, and in turn force your own hand with the Resistance. You did not want him to make you make that decision--you wanted this unborn child to one day know its father. And you wanted that knowledge to be more than a photograph in a textbook. More than seeing his name headlined in the news.

Through the halls and up the stairs, not a soul stirred. Johana had departed before he’d even arrived. It was difficult not to watch him move; even in his stride he was commanding, seemingly dictating to the air how much oxygen it could hold. And if that truly wasbwhat he was doing, it was working--your lungs grew hungrier with every step. His boots creaked the floorboards, naming your fear in rhythm, and when you reached the entrance to his room, you followed him in.

The door shut behind you, and Kylo moved past you, shrugging off his coat and stowing it on a hook. He turned, drinking you in, need pouring into his eyes.

“Your dress,” he said. “I don’t want you in it.”

Heat rushed your thighs. “There was nothing else for me to wear.”

He sniffed. “I know,” he said. “But now you’re with me.” A slight shift in his feet, his gaze raking over you. “Take it off.”

A shiver skittered up your spine, and you looked to your right, a dark oak cheval mirror framing your reflection. You imagined your stomach big and wide in front of you, red dress billowing with your burgeoning belly. Who knew how long he might be gone after this? Perhaps this would be the last time he’d see your body as he’d known it, before it morphed to a mother’s image. A shallow, self-conscious part of you bit its nails, forgetting the question of your future entirely, more concerned about how he’d perceive your changing figure. You shook the anxiety away--you could do it. You could tell him.

Kylo stepped closer. “Don’t make me wait.”

Your mouth dried, brain screeching to speak, to let it go, to just say it, say the words--

Another step. “You said you missed me.”

--just say the fucking words just tell him--

He stepped again, closer still. “Show me.”

--just fucking tell him that--

“Little bird--”

“I’m pregnant!”

Kylo stopped, paralyzed in place. You searched his expression, seeking anything that could be confused for comfort, finding nothing in the vacancy of his face--he only stared, a statue, not even bothering to breathe. Heart thumping in your ears, you shrugged, gesturing to yourself in resignation.

“I am,” you said. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence lingered, a suffocating unknown. Kylo’s jaw clenched--yet he still said nothing, still refused to move, still denied you the relief of his response. Holding a sigh, you folded your arms over your chest, meeting his unyielding eyes.

“Well.” You shrugged again. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

He blinked, and his fists furled, gaze roaming your body in something you could have sworn was divination. Air fled him. He swallowed.

“What, um…” You chewed your cheek. You wanted to explode. “What do you think?”

A long pause. He continued to scrutinize you. “I think…” He approached, peeling off his gloves, a malicious delight darkening his face. “You’re finally mine.”

You choked. His meant so many things, a word in purgatory, its intention tugged taut between the ether of heaven and hell. And it was true: you were his, wanted to be his in nearly every aspect of your existence except for the most meaningful and precious part, a part you hadn’t surrendered, your only source of sanity within the typhoon of your mutual obsession. He didn’t have your mind, yet, had not broken your will. A tiny, shrinking hope believed he no longer wanted to--but that same hope knew that at any moment, it could be dashed.

“But what’s…” Your lips trembled. “What’s going to happen, then?”

Kylo crowded you, stalked behind you to tower over you; he pinched your cheeks in his long fingers, forcing you to meet his glittering eyes in the mirror. You shuddered, stepping back to feel more of his solid figure. His enormity dizzied you, weakened your knees--against this howitzer of a human, you were a red and white shell, prepared especially for him to use up and spit out.

“Mm.” He reached down, still gripping your chin, and gathered your dress in his fist, exposing your calves, your knees, your thighs, until he’d revealed your underwear. Lingering for a moment, he hiked the whole skirt to your waist. “Hold it.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed.

“What’s going to happen.” A warm, smooth hand coasted over the curve of your hip, across the expanse of your naked thigh. “Your hips will get wider.” He squeezed the flesh, kneading it in his palm. “Thicker.” The word was molasses on his tongue. Leaning closer, he pressed his mouth to your throat--you whimpered, cunt clenching. He slipped between your legs for only a moment, choosing instead to graze your abdomen.

In anticipation, you lifted your skirt to your ribs. This hadn’t been what you’d meant. But

Kylo Ren’s power crackled from him like crimson lightning, a dragon strength that had been unchained now for weeks. It intoxicated you, fuzzied your brain with a creeping desire so terrible you wished for a muzzle. Unfortunately, you were without one. And it was consuming you.

“Your belly will grow with my child.” He caressed your stomach, reveling as it tensed under his touch. His gaze never wavered from yours, drilling you in your reflection as he rubbed you. “So round and swollen.” Soft lips skimmed your pulse, mouthing the quickening beat of your heart--a sharp, rough movement, and your dress was gone, the effort tossing your bonnet aside with it.

Yes, any discussion you might have been willing to have was certainly tabled, now. Eighteen days without his touch had left you raw, and your skin sparkled with it, a craving chorus in your cells. In this moment, fuck what being his meant--you wanted it. You’d be pregnant for 8 more months, anyway. For now, you’d drown in the delicious, vulgar words leaving your Commander’s mouth.

“And your breasts.” He snatched your jaw again, humming into your ear while he squeezed one in his big hand, thumb brushing your stiffening nipple, pleasure echoing in your pussy. His stare was ravenous, flaying you with hungry claws. “They’ll be full and tight and heavy…”

Breath hitching, engulfed in a deluge of lust, you wriggled against him, reaching to dig into his legs. Kylo stilled you, tugging you to his lips, rolling and pressing your tit. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you groaned, catching the mirror from the corner of your vision--in your black bear’s embrace, you were his half-shucked supper, begging in silence to be devoured.

Kylo nipped your lower lip, pinching tighter to your chin, and you whined, jerking his pelvis into you, tongue fighting with his own. His kiss was hot, needy, selfish, his mouth working yours while he rocked his arousal along your backside. A strong hand pushed and kneaded your breast, twisting and pulling the bud; you gasped in pleasure, broke the kiss--and felt something wet seep over your skin.

The sensation nearly strangled you, and you stumbled back to his chest, meeting his gaze in the mirror, your eyes wide with shock. Beneath his lower lid, a muscle fluttered. He crushed your tit, earning another tingle in your nerves, another unmistakable damp blot in your bra. You squirmed in his hold, face hot with humiliation, chin quaking as the realization washed over you both.

Growling, Kylo tore the garment from your shoulders, popping the hooks at your back apart, and following that, he yanked your underwear to your ankles, tossing them with your boots before wrapping you back in his arms. He nuzzled into your neck as he watched you in the mirror, basking in the sight of your naked flesh before pinning you across the waist with his forearm, free hand cupping your tit, rolling and kneading it again.

You couldn’t believe this was happening; at only 6 or 7 weeks along, you knew enough to know it was rare that you’d be producing at all. But what was more unbelievable was how deeply it excited Kylo--his eyes dark, his grip possessive--and in turn, how deeply it excited you. His thick fingers tweaked your tender nipple, his breath catching as thin, white fluid trickled from the tip and over his knuckles--you writhed, tides of heat crashing over your skin.

“Stop.” He bit your neck in warning, licking his lips and squeezing more warm milk from your breast, mesmerized by the little forming creeks. The sight was tantalizingly lewd, inspiring fire between your thighs, making your cunt ache for friction. He sneered. “You like this, hm?”

Goosebumps covered half of your body by now. Why lie? “Yes,” you admitted, cheeks burning.

“Filthy thing.” He trapped you in his gaze, the hand at your breast skimming over your stomach, dipping into your slit, teasing your clit, sending ripples of bliss through your thighs. “Getting wet from me playing with your tits like this.” He stroked the now stiff, swollen bud, clear drops beading. “Is this how the mother of my child should behave?”

You shuddered. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologize, little whore.” Kylo snickered, collecting a thumbful, and shoved it into your mouth. “Do your job and suck.”

Groaning, you sealed your lips and swirled your tongue around his digit, lids fluttering with the taste of sour-sweet fluid, blood swimming with perverted exhilaration. He continued to stare into you, now working your other breast, his pelvis still rocking, his chest heaving at your back. You bucked against him, a famished animal, grateful for the iron of his erection along your ass as your clit twitched--you weren’t sure how much longer you could go without attending to it. Purring, Kylo removed his thumb from your mouth and wet his hand in the milk that had spilled over your stomach, painting you with it before pushing his own fingers between his teeth and suckling them clean. A moan escaped him, and you echoed him, the sheer deviancy wringing you of sanity, and with that same hand, he seized your chin and pulled you into a rough, desperate kiss.

As he kissed you, he sank to his knees, taking you with him--he had you bound, groping at your sore breast, your mouth stuck to his, your hands still holding his hips. He growled, bit your lip again before smothering the column of your throat with kisses, pulling away to see more milk drip through his digits and over your belly. You shivered, and his back crested with desire; he released your breast, still holding your neck as he unbuckled his belt and freed his cock.

The heavy, thick length slid between your spread thighs, slicking itself on your throbbing cunt--you gasped, melting into him, dragging your folds along his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Kylo sneered again, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

“Stroke me, slut,” he muttered at your skin. “Make me feel good.”

Your core ached, and with a trembling hand, you gripped him, watching his gaze darken as you glided your comparably small fist up and down his dick, clenching when it twitched in your palm.

He hummed in approval. “Good girl...”

Kylo continued to nip and suck at your shoulder while you jerked him, stare unfaltering, still massaging milk from your tit, soaking his fingers in fluid. His cock was so smooth, so hard, you wanted, needed it inside of you--you chewed your lip, trying to wiggle yourself flush with his frame. Grunting, he crushed you in his hold, and you squeaked in assent; when he resumed nibbling your throat, you passed your thumb over the head of his dick, coating the shaft with precum, stroking him faster.

“That’s right.” He was thrusting into your hand, teeth cutting welts across your neck. “Look at you. Dirty little bitch.” Smirking, he dropped your breast, licking your milk from his fingers before shoving them in your mouth, forcing a moan. “It’s been almost three weeks.” He reached the back of your tongue, and you gagged. “Do you think my cock will still fit in that little pussy?” Kylo left a long, lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, spearing you with his gaze. “Is it going to hurt when I fuck you open?”

You swallowed and nodded, clenching around the very obvious nothing inside of you, tightening your grip on his hot, throbbing length.

“Good.” He bit your jawline, now. “It should hurt.” A sharp jerk into you, and you groaned onto his fingers, drool streaming down your chin. “Your cunt should only stretch for me.”

Lust clouded your brain; any thought outside of the demand for Kylo Ren’s dick ramming deep into your pussy had long dissipated into the air. This was salacious, disgusting, thrilling, your body completely in his service, about to be filled with both his child and his cock. Freedom be damned--in this moment, you were a vessel, and you clamored for him to vindicate you, to make your purpose whole.

Swiveling your neck, he kissed you, murmuring against your lips. “You want me?”

You nodded again, whimpering around his hand.

He pulled out of your mouth and dropped your breast, leaning back onto his heels. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Your cunt pulsed with anticipation. Nodding, you eased back, heat at your cheeks as you glimpsed yourself in the mirror attempting to situate yourself over his length. Kylo was stoic, observing you with only a hint of amusement in his eyes, and you took his shaft in your fingers, leading it toward your wet, aching core. Catching his gaze in the mirror, you lowered yourself onto it, seething as it split you inch by inch.

Kylo’s jaw tensed, and he sucked in air through his teeth, fists at his sides while he watched your tight pussy swallow his dick. You fought for air and winced while you eased to the hilt, his girth stretching you, stuffing you with a sting. Panting, you shifted your legs, feeling it full and warm inside your cunt, driving into the pit of your belly. You cinched around him, and he hissed in pleasure, stifling the urge to buck into you.

Locking with his eyes, you rolled your hips with slow, controlled movements, sliding up and down his cock, bracing your thighs. He pulsed at your entrance, spurring you on, letting him bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, Kylo’s cheeks were pink, his lips parted, his chest rising with steadied breath--he was hypnotized by the view of your cunt riding his dick.

“Good girl.” His voice was heavy with desire, and his hands moved to caress your thighs--not in assistance, but in admiration. “That’s it. I know how greedy your pussy is.” He squeezed you, gliding up your sides.

Quaking with hunger, you crept toward your clit, glancing it with a feather-touch--you clamped around him, beaten with bliss. But Kylo batted you away, humming in admonishment.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” He clucked his tongue, and you whined, rocking faster on top of him. “There we go.” Groping your sides, he caught a moan in his throat. “You have me inside of you. A part of me I gave you.” He shifted your legs wider. “You belong to me, now. This cunt.” Calloused fingers skimmed your clit, flicking it, and you squealed, slamming onto him, his dick twitching in delight. “These tits.” His free hand kneaded them, coaxing drops of milk onto his palm. “Even this nasty little mouth is mine.” Kylo snagged your chin, crushing your lips with his.

His tongue wrestled with yours while you undulated your hips, leaning into him until you were seated on his lap, pace quickening. Drawing in air through his nose, he traced circles around your clit, and you wailed into him, the stimulation tightening your pussy, soaking your walls. You bounced on him, kissing him in heated fervor, your bodies rocking in time as you chased his soft lips.

Kylo broke away, heaving, and whipped your head toward the mirror. His eyes were wild ebony, his hips canting with yours--and you could see it, see the root of his throbbing cock as it drove into you, see the slick coat of your juices along his shaft, see him rubbing your stiff nub. The obscenity of it shook you, and you gasped, climax building between your thighs.

“Little slut,” he purred. “You love watching yourself get fucked.” Faster friction on your clit, pleasure rushing you, and you groaned, unable to tear your gaze from the sight of him sinking over and over into your pussy. ”You’re going to cum for me, hm? I can feel it.” A jolt of his hips, shoving the breath from your lungs, and he swirled your nub, panting into your ear. “Cum on it, bitch,” he muttered. “Show me how you cum on my cock.”

Rapture ripped through you, and you quailed, attention glued to your pussy, watching it throb and clench and squeeze his shaft with every wave of ecstasy--and Kylo saw too, grunting behind you as you rode the rest of your orgasm, dick twitching with an urgent need to pour his seed inside of you.

“Fuck.”

He tossed you to your hands and knees, ignoring your wobble for stability in the aftershocks of your climax. Your head spun--you’d barely said a word since he’d started fucking you out of pure bewilderment. Between your tits leaking milk, the performance in the mirror, and the pure passion that had enthralled your Commander, speech had become useless. All you needed was his touch, his voice, his presence, and all you needed from them was their promise of oblivion.

You looked to the mirror--behind you, Kylo Ren was starved, his mouth dropped in anticipation while he lined up his cock with your dripping core. Strong hand burying bruises to your hip, he snarled and slammed deep; you sobbed in bliss, locking your elbows, and he grappled your hips, holding you tight and pounding your cunt.

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Kylo growled, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps--you were captivated, flames flickering in your belly, stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge--you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself, his hair tumbling onto his face as he plowed you again and again, piercing your cervix, relishing in his domination of your body.

He met your gaze, huffing in satisfaction. “It’s going to get worse,” he said. “You’ll be desperate for my cock.” A shift, and he yanked your ass into the air, pumping faster, intensity shaking your frame. “You’ll be begging for it the second you wake up.” He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. “I’ll have to tie you to my bed.”

“Kylo...”

“You wanted this,” he said, “you wanted to have something inside of you that’s mine.”

“Yes,” you said, because despite your fears, it was your deepest, most shameful wish come true, “yes, I wanted this, wanted it with you--”

“Fuck!” Scowling, he spat a fat glob onto the mirror right in front of your face. “Lick it up.”

You whimpered, the sound stuttered from the violent pace of his cock. “Kylo--”

He spanked you, and you cried out, his other hand jerking your scalp. “Lick it up if you want to cum again.”

You leaned forward, pressing your tongue to the glass, groaning with embarrassment and gathering his spit on your tongue. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide--you could hardly focus on the motion of your mouth as you cleaned his saliva from the mirror and swallowed it. Wincing, you collapsed into your folded forearms, shuddering with every painful thrust.

Kylo pulled out, and you almost howled in protest, but he was quick, flipping you to your back and angling the mirror to reflect your sweating, fucked-out face. He grabbed your legs and spread them, strangling a moan as he hooked your hips and drove back in. Keeping his pace, he wrecked your cunt, grip threatening to crack your pelvis, face contorted in a focused fury, black locks now strewn over his forehead and sticking to his reddened cheeks. His primal gaze ravaged you, wandering your body before stopping at your jiggling chest.

“Look at that,” he growled through his teeth. “How your tits bounce.” He wet his lips. “How full they’re going to be for me.” Inching forward, he hiked your ankles onto his shoulders. “Play with them.”

You grabbed your breasts, the flesh soft and pliant in your palm, and kneaded them, biting your lip, wanting to drive him over the edge. It worked, you thought; he bent closer, a voracious brute, pummelling your pussy, pushing deeper than you considered possible, wracking you numb. And as he did, your display squeezed fluid from your nipples, inches from his mouth--he groaned, loud, shameless, and latched onto your tit.

His lids shut in utter elation as he sucked you, liquid leaking from his lips, and he fucked you fast, chasing his orgasm, moaning into your chest. You wove a hand through his hair, scraping his scalp, the other still working your breast, lost in the sensation of Kylo suckling it. Somehow, in the wildfire of absolute depravity within his bedroom, he remembered what you’d earned--fingers fell to your clit, teasing and stroking it, and you choked.

It descended upon you--the promise of oblivion--as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, shaking with the pistoning of Kylo’s hips. And Kylo--frizzed waves spilled over your throat, his head burrowed in your breast while he nipped, sucked, sated himself on your tits. There you both were, a diamond fragment of unacknowledged utopia; a deceptive mirage, fated to fade in a sudden cold splash.

But you were in utopia, right now--and you disintegrated inside it, crying your Commander’s name, spasming as euphoria eroded your mind. You convulsed, climax pulled like buried thread from your skin, slitting you open and bleeding you of bliss. Kylo hummed into your breast, and then shoved back, pulling from your still-pulsing pussy, panting and fucking his fist.

“Fuck,” he said, straddling your waist. “Fu--fuck!”

Jets of hot, white cum splattered across your tits, arcing over the supple swells, decorating you in debauchery. He heaved, stroking his cock as it dribbled his release, lungs pulling in long, slow breaths, the both of you descending. You gazed up at him, ribs rattling as you floated in air, and Kylo smirked, two fingers scooping up his seed and your milk--he wrapped his lips around them, cleaning them with his tongue. When he was finished, he took that same hand, pried your jaw open, and spit the mixture into your mouth.

Writhing, you gagged, but he snapped your teeth together, lip twitching cruelly.

“Swallow it,” he said. “Swallow it all.”

The concoction was thick and slimy and bitter--your eyes watered when you gulped it down, feeling it slither down your throat.

Kylo was fascinated. “Mm. Prove it.”

You stuck your empty tongue over your teeth, humiliation singing your skin.

He grunted in praise. “Good,” he said, patting your cheek. “Good girl.”

A silent moment passed, and a sigh escaped him. He rose to his feet, crossing to the bathroom, leaving you splayed over the hardwood, smothered in sweat and semen. Beyond the threshold, you heard running water, squeaking of knobs--and then Kylo returned, pieced back to modesty, a black towel in his hand. You pulled your lips in over your teeth, snuffing the flicker of affection in your ribcage.

Face blank, he wiped you off, tending to you as if you were a window or tabletop, and not the mother of his child, not the woman he’d cuddled and caressed and kissed. Once finished, he met your eyes, blinked, and stood, tossing the towel into the clothes basket.

In the hall, the thumping of heavy boots--your heart raced, and you glanced at your Commander, who seemed unconcerned. A fist or mallet or something else hefty hammered the door, shaking it in its frame.

“Intel that Pryde’s camp is moving tonight.” It was a Knight. “We need to leave now, sir.”

Kylo huffed. “Fine.” The boots exited the hall, and he looked to you. “Get dressed. You’re coming.”

You blinked, sitting up on your elbows. “What?” you asked. “Why?”

His jaw stiffened. “Your condition.” He looked to the floor and found his gloves, tugging them on. “Your safety is only guaranteed in my presence.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t decide if you were overjoyed or terrified. You gestured toward your dress. “Should I…”

“No.” He moved toward the door and grabbed his jacket. “Find a robe. Be ready when I return.”

He slipped into the hall, and you sighed, shaking your head. There was still a conversation you had yet to have, one that you now dreaded even more than before. The return of your sanity post-fuck brought with it the return of your doubts, the return of your fears. Standing, you pulled on your underwear, shoving your tender tits back into your bra.

You knew Kylo had once sought to own you in totality, and you also knew now he saw you as human, that he had rejected your personal enslavement. But it hadn’t freed you from his desire to cage you within his world, to keep you in compulsory companionship, or to convince you of his philosophy. He still saw himself--and you--entangled in the talons of destiny, manacled to misery, an inevitable, fatal conclusion. What he believed your destiny, your role to truly be, you didn’t know--but you assumed he wanted to shackle you to it, whether you agreed or not.

The robe you’d worn after Johana had stitched you still hung on the bathroom door. You draped it over you and tied it tight, the hem kissing the floor even after you put on your boots. Gazing into the mirror, you saw a woman adorned with all of the trappings of domesticity, but denied its security, refused its warmth. No matter the intimacy you craved from your Commander, you could not exist as a family in the boundaries of Gilead. His child could not be born into its father’s hopeless home.

Kylo Ren would admit the existence of choice, he would cede it to you. Or you would take it, and abandon him to his despair.

The door opened. In the threshold loomed a black reaper, a spectre of nightmares, a masked monster. Your Commander, suited with his helmet, strapped with a rifle, stared you down from behind his visor.

“Come.” The distortion of his voice iced your chest. “We’re leaving.”

He turned, deserting you in his room. Panic deafened you, screamed in your ears, but despite it all, you followed. You didn’t know where you’d be going. But you suspected that once you arrived, there’d be no turning back.

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